


I Can't Help Falling in Love With You

by friendlybomber



Series: Falling in Love Verse [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Conquistador!Spain, Fluff, Happy Ending, Inferiority Issues, M/M, also a little bit of angst in chapter 2 but thats it, archive warning for chapter 2, chibi romano at one point, disgusting fluff, literally nonstop fluff, so saccharine sweet you'll shit cotton candy for a month, spamano - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlybomber/pseuds/friendlybomber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout the 500 years they spent together, Antonio never stopped reminding Lovino of how special he was, and Lovino never stopped making Antonio the happiest man on earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Delicious Tomato Song

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley.

For some indeterminable reason, Lovino was special. There was nothing Antonio could quite place his finger on for an explanation, no hints or tips or clues that gave it all away. There was simply a warm feeling in the pit of Antonio’s stomach whenever he saw Lovino, urging him to go easy on the little guy.

Not that Lovino appreciated the sentiment, of course. He didn’t care one bit how nice Antonio was to him. As far as he was concerned, living with Big Brother Antonio was almost worse than living with Big Brother Roderich, and the least the jerk bastard could do was feed him decent food. Plus, he was expected to work and clean the bastard’s house, and Lovino was completely useless at that, so Antonio was a huge jerk for expecting a little kid to do stuff he wasn’t able to, and he made sure to let him know at every opportunity he got.

Cleaning was an issue; Antonio had a big house, and he was a busy guy. What was the point of Lovino living there if he wouldn’t work at all? Antonio spent all day working, making sure his colonies were doing what they should be and kicking other nations’ butts in war. If Lovino were any other colony, he’d be punished severely for not pulling his weight. But, Antonio was weak to Lovino. Instead of punishing him, he ended up doting on him, and Lovino’s bad behavior never stopped.

“Lovino! This house is anything but clean!” he scolded, gaping at the huge mess left over from the night before. He had won a great victory, and there had been a huge celebration at his house, leaving the place trashed by the time the sun rose. He had ordered Lovino to reorder everything while Antonio was out working, but yet, when he came home, it still looked like a tornado had struck.

“Cleaning is crazy hard,” whined Lovino. He was laying on top of an overturned couch, a mop resting on his stomach. “Every time I try to do it, I just end up messing everything up more. Why do you keep forcing me to clean, you bastard, huh?”

“Who taught you to speak like that?” Antonio shook his head. “Lovino. You have to listen to Boss now, okay? You’ve got a job to do, and you’re expected to do it.”

Lovino sent a wave of motion through his arm and into his shoulder, as if dancing to silent music. “But I can’t do it, huh? So what do you expect me to do?”     

“Why are you doing that with your arm, Lovino?” Antonio walked briskly over to him, concerned as Lovino swung his neck to the side and then looked back, gritting his teeth.

“Doing what? I’m not doing anything. Get your hands away from me, you creep!”

Antonio took Lovino’s tiny arm in between his hands, examining it. Another wave of motion rippled through it, up through his shoulders and neck. Antonio furrowed his brow and looked back at Lovino’s face.

“Are you doing that on purpose, Lovino?”

“I’m not doing anything! Stop touching me!”

“Yes you are, Lovino, you can’t hide it. Are those dance-like movements just happening on their own?’

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, jerk,” spat Lovino, his hips swiveling. He forced them back into place, but they jutted to the side again, and his face began to turn pink.

“Lovino, are you okay? Does this happen a lot?” Antonio sat down on the upturned couch next to Lovino. The little boy turned away, scooching over so that there were a few inches between their hips.

“Maybe,” he grumbled, looking away. “It just happens and I can’t do anything to stop it, huh?”

Antonio nodded thoughtfully. That explained a lot about Lovino. He had a great deal of trouble falling asleep at night, and whenever he inevitably crawled into Antonio’s bed and dozed off, he jerked around and kicked so much in his sleep that he eventually forced Antonio to the far side of the bed almost nightly. When Lovino complained so much about how hard cleaning was for him, Antonio just thought he was being a little shit, but perhaps it was these strange muscle spasms that caused him to be incapable of basic tasks. Antonio stood up.

“How about you take the day off, Lovino, hm? I’ve got to go back out. Why don’t you go and play outside in the garden?”

“What are you playing at, jerk bastard?” Lovino pointed a finger at him sharply.

“What are you talking about? I’ve got to go run some errands. You just go play, okay? Bye bye, Lovino, I’ll be back soon!” Antonio rushed out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

“Don’t treat me like a child, eh!” cried Lovino from inside. Antonio laughed. Lovino was so cute. He couldn’t ask for a cuter little brother.

He had a feeling he knew what ailed Lovino, but he had to make sure. A conversation he had with a farmer a few days ago was fresh in his mind; the farmer thought that perhaps Lovino suffered from what he had called “the dancing disease”, and the only cure was music. Antonio had believed him, but If he wanted to help Lovino out, he needed a professional opinion. He headed straight to a doctor in town, who confirmed his suspicions; it was very likely that Lovino suffered from a mild case of chorea. It wasn’t seriously threatening or dangerous, but he would require some sort of physical therapy if he ever wanted to get better. Something like dancing. Antonio headed back home, his mind wheeling.

Lovino was his favorite colony, and he doted on him more than anyone else. As much as he wanted to help him so he would be able to work effectively, he also had an overwhelming urge to protect him. The more he told himself he only needed to help Lovino so he would finally behave as a colony of Spain should, the more he became certain that he only cared about making sure Lovino was happy and safe and comfortable. He loved Lovino like the little brother he never had – why else did he make Antonio’s heart rate double? – and all he wanted was for the little kid to be okay.

“You’re late, you son of a bitch,” Lovino said when Antonio walked in. “I’m hungry, so get to it, huh?” His leg swiveled round and round, and he tried to force it back into place, to no avail.

“Alright, alright,” sighed Antonio, suddenly very tired. “Just wait a minute, okay? How do we say please in Spanish, Lovino?

“Give me-o,” said Lovino.

Antonio squinted in bemusement and shook his head, ruffling Lovino’s hair. “That’s not right at all, Lovino. _Por favor_. Repeat after me. _Por favor_.”

“ _Per favore,”_ said Lovino quickly.

“No, no, no,” said Antonio. “In Spanish. Listen, okay?” He spoke slowly. “ _Por favor_.”

“ _Por favore_ ,” said Lovino with some difficulty. He managed to fuse his language and Antonio’s, but it was an improvement from nothing.

“Ah, it’s close enough,” sighed Antonio. He ruffled Lovino’s hair again. “You’re so cute, Lovino.”

“ _Stop touching me_ ,” Lovino roared.

Antonio laughed again and tugged on Romano’s stray curl. The little boy’s face immediately turned bright red, and he made a noise through his grit teeth that sounded like _chigi_. He charged forward with a roar and drove his head straight into Antonio’s stomach. Antonio doubled over, clutching his middle, all the breath leaving him.

“You dirty pervert! What the hell are you doing touching a little kid like that, eh? What’s wrong with you? I bet you assault all your other colonies too, huh? You creepy jerk pervert bastard shithead!”

“Calm down, Lovino, I was just playing with you,” choked Antonio.

Lovino screamed. “That’s disgusting! You’re disgusting!”

Antonio placed his hand to the wall for support and slowly straightened up, still clutching his stomach with one arm. “I’ll just… go make dinner…” He staggered away to the kitchen, leaving a still bright red Lovino behind in the hall. He may have been used to the wrath of Lovino, but it did not make the pain any more tolerable.

That night, well after a more or less quiet dinner, a storm hit. Antonio lay in his bed with his eyes closed, not quite asleep, listening to the rain and thunder whip around his house. The building creaked and groaned in the wind, whirled about by the storm’s rage. Any second now, Lovino would tiptoe into the room and ask to sleep with him. Just as the thought crossed Antonio’s mind, the door to his bedroom opened. Antonio sat up in bed quickly, his eyes peeling open. Lovino stood in the doorway, a tough expression on his face and a pillow the size of his body under his arm.

“What? Lovino? Are you scared?”

“No,” said Lovino.

The room was illuminated with blue as lightning flashed, and a great bout of thunder rolled over the house. Lovino jumped into the air screaming, and darted over to Antonio’s bed. He dove in head first, landing on Antonio’s stomach.

“It’s okay, Lovino,” Antonio groaned, clutching his stomach with one hand and Lovino’s trembling body with the other. “It’s just a thunderstorm. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

“I’m not scared,” stuttered Lovino, his eyes wide. His brow was covered in sweat, and he was dancing again, his arm and shoulders and neck working their way through that familiar wave pattern Antonio had learned to see.

“I learned what that’s called,” said Antonio, changing the subject. He sat up fully and crossed his legs, facing Lovino. “That dancing you do that you can’t stop. It’s called chorea.”

“So what can you do to stop it, huh?” demanded Lovino, as if Antonio being able to recognize the symptoms of a disease also gave him the power to cure it. Antonio smiled.

“I don’t think I can do anything, Lovino. The doctor said you’ll need to do some sort of physical therapy to help it. But don’t you worry! Boss has a few ideas!”

The thunder cracked again, and Lovino dived for Antonio, wrapping his tiny arms around the older boy’s middle. He was trembling violently and whimpering. Antonio was seriously concerned about Lovino wetting the bed. He placed his hands on Lovino’s back, pulling him close.

“Hey, it’s okay, Lovino,” he said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Why is the thunder so loud, huh?” His eyes were so big and wide and scared. Antonio almost squealed at how cute he was. How could one little kid be this adorable? Antonio pulled Lovino even tighter unconsciously. A strong surge of protective instincts swept through his heart. If Lovino was scared of the thunderstorms, Antonio wasn’t going to rest until he laughed at the thunder.

“Well, it’s because of tomatoes, Lovino,” Antonio said very seriously.

“What the hell are you on about, bastard?”

“The thunder,” explained Antonio. “It’s tomatoes. You see, up in the sky, your Roman goddess Ceres likes to harvest her tomatoes whenever it rains. You know how when we go and pick tomatoes together, we sometimes drop them out of our baskets? That’s what Ceres does, too. It turns out, even Roman goddesses make mistakes!”

"Ceres isn’t my goddess, she’s Grandpa Rome’s,” grumbled Lovino. “And what the hell kind of a Catholic are you, telling me stories about old gods and goddesses?”

 Antonio laughed. “Just, listen, okay? So, whenever Ceres drops a tomato, it hits the ground and makes a huge rumble, because her tomatoes are so big! Seriously, you know how big my house is? Ceres’ tomatoes are even bigger! So whenever she drops them, the sound they make whenever they hit the ground is so loud, that it sounds like thunder to us. And that’s why thunder is so loud.”

“Because of tomatoes.”

“ _Si_. Because of tomatoes.”

Lovino blinked at Antonio, his mouth slightly open. Antonio held his twitching grin, trying not to laugh before Lovino had a chance to speak. They held each other in a stalemate for a few seconds, before Lovino scoffed.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said. “Besides, if you’re going to tell stories about Roman gods, at least get it right. Jupiter was in charge of thunder, not Ceres picking dumb tomatoes.”

“Tomatoes aren’t dumb, Lovino! They’re a very serious business! And the thunder is Ceres _dropping_ tomatoes, not picking them!”

“Why do you say such stupid things, Antonio,” shot Lovino, but he no longer looked as scared when the thunder sounded again, shaking the walls of the house.

“It’s some storm out there,” frowned Antonio. “I hope everyone is okay.” A pang hit him in the chest. What an odd thing to think. He was never that compassionate about other people’s well-being, not him, not the great Kingdom of España. He must have been tired, that’s all. To convince himself, he stifled a fake yawn and stretched. “Okay, I think it’s time for bed. Are you gonna be okay, Lovino?”

“Of course I’ll be okay. It’s not like I was scared or anything. But I’m staying here tonight.”

Antonio lay back down in his bed, pulling up the covers around his body. “Okay, Lovino. But if you wet the bed, I’m gonna be seriously pissed.”

Lovino went bright red. “I don’t wet the bed! Squirrels keep climbing through my window and doing it and then framing me!”

“That is not true at all,” sighed Antonio, smiling. “Go to sleep, Lovino.”

Lovino lay down, grumbling to himself about squirrels and how nobody believed him. He tried to get comfortable, but every time he stopped moving, he began to twitch and fidget again, his upper body moving in that wave-like motion. Antonio watched him through half-lidded eyes, empathy washing over his heart. He was going to help Lovino. And he was going to do it first thing after breakfast the next day. He reached out and placed his hand over Lovino’s arm, holding it still. The little boy didn’t’ even yell at him, just silently writhed and clenched his teeth until he drifted off to sleep.

Antonio smiled at the sleeping boy. He still danced around in his sleep, and his eyelids fluttered fitfully. He was angry, and rude, and incompetent, but damnit if he wasn’t the cutest little thing Antonio had ever seen. Every time Antonio looked at Lovino, he couldn’t help but become short of breath, and his heartbeat sped up, a warmth spreading throughout his face and through his body. Lovino filled Antonio with so much brotherly love, Antonio wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself. Lovino was just so special. So special.

               

The next day, Antonio took Lovino out into the garden, ignoring Lovino’s complaints. He brought his guitar with him, and, when he had found a suitable location with enough open space, he bent down, balancing the instrument on his knee.

He strummed a chord. “Since you’re South Italia, you ought to know about the tradition of the tarantella.”

“You mean that dance people who get bitten by tarantulas do because they think it can cure them?” asked Lovino doubtfully, glaring at Antonio, his hips swiveling against his will.

“That’s the one!” He strummed another chord. “I was just thinking, since your chorea makes you convulse like tarantula victims-”

“Jackass!”

“-maybe dancing a tarantella would be helpful!”

Lovino looked sheepish, tracing his foot back and forth in the dirt. “Well, that’s a dumb idea. But, uh, I don’t know any tarantellas.”

Antonio gasped. “What? None at all? But you’re South Italy! Tarantella comes from your land!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know any, so go away!” cried Lovino, clenching his fists.

"Hey, it’s okay, Lovino! I’ll teach you one!”

Lovino backed away. “No. Don’t come near me, you bastard!”

Antonio set his guitar down gently on the ground far away from where he intended to dance with Lovino. Then, he approached the boy and took his hands.

“It’s not hard at all! Here, I’ll show you. Step with this foot first…” He led him through the fairly simple moves, showing him how to trot and wave his arms and throw the convulsions from his body. The dance itself was reminiscent of the movements Lovino made from his chorea, but it was much more enjoyable to watch Lovino intentionally make them. He only complained few times, and he even began to smile and laugh, finding something he was actually good at. As Antonio took him backwards in a fast-stepping pattern, he began to sing.

“ _Buono tomato_

_Buono tomato_

_Buono buono ooh! Tomato!_

_Red on the bottom_

_And green on the top_

_Toma- Toma- Tomato!_

_Hm!”_

“What the hell are you singing, bastard,” demanded Lovino, following Antonio’s step pattern and arm movements.

“It’s the Delicious Tomato Song!” laughed Antonio, pressing Lovino back in the direction they came. “It’s perfect for this dance!”

“It’s dumb!” They spun around in the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust into the air.

“It’s not dumb at all!

_I’ll give you another one_

_I’ll give you a beautiful one_

_Eat a delicious tomato_

_And come dance with me!_

_Amore!_ ” Antonio twirled Lovino around, moving his arms in the correct motions. Lovino tried to frown, but found himself laughing jubilantly at the silly song Antonio sang. They came to the end of the dance, Antonio demonstrating the proper way to hold the body in the finishing pose, and they both descended into a fit of laughter, collapsing in the dirt.

“This is so fun, Lovino!” cried Antonio, wrapping his arms around the little kid. The way he laughed in pure joy, too happy to pretend to be mad, the way he mimicked Antonio’s dancing perfectly, it was almost too much for Antonio to handle. His chest began to hurt, and he suddenly stopped laughing, clutching at his heart.

“Eh, what is it, jerk Toni, are you okay?” asked Lovino, the laughter dying from his eyes like water rushing down a drain. At the sound of the nickname, all the breath left Antonio’s body. He forced himself to gasp deeply to draw in more air quickly.

“What? Oh, _si_ , I’m fine,” replied Antonio, setting his cheerful smile back on his face. “It’s just… You’re so happy right now, and you’re not convulsing at all, and you’re just so cute, it sobered me for a second!”

Lovino turned away. “Hmph. You’re gross. Why do you say such stupid things, huh?”

Antonio laughed and pulled Lovino to his chest, tickling the little kid’s sides. Lovino began to laugh again, kicking at Antonio and trying to claw away. Antonio released the kid and rose to his feet, dusting off some of the thin layer of dirt that had settled on his clothes. He retrieved his guitar and set it on his knee once more, twisting the pegs slightly to retune.

“Alright, Lovino,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ve learned.”

“You want me to dance it all by myself right now?”

“Yeah! Show me what you’ve got!” He strummed the first chord, looking at Lovino expectantly.

“Well, okay…” Lovino shifted into the beginning pose uncertainly, all his bravado fleeing without Antonio there to hold his hands and help him. Antonio began to play and sing, and Lovino began to dance, executing the motions Antonio had taught him flawlessly. His motions were fluid and precise, never moving even a centimeter out of line. This was the full dance Lovino had been trying to do, the combination of all the components of motion from Lovino’s chorea merged into one lively, fluid dance. He laughed at the words to Antonio’s song about delicious tomatoes and twirled, joining in at the part of the song where Antonio called, “Amore!” He rolled his shoulders and shuffled his feet and fell gracefully into the final pose, and the song and dance ended with a flare.

Antonio rested his elbows on the guitar and clapped, laughing jubilantly. “Wow, Lovino! That was really good! _Buen trabajo!_ ”

“I know it was,” beamed Lovino, all traces of uncertainty gone. He stood tall and proud, completely still, no dancelike movements waving through his body. Antonio almost burst from pride.

“Let’s do this again tomorrow, Lovino,” said Antonio, gathering his guitar and standing up straight. “I’ve got to go work now.”

“What? No! Don’t go! I mean… yeah, that’s fine. You get out of here, jerk.” Lovino turned bright red and looked away, fidgeting awkwardly with his shirt.

Antonio laughed and swooped Lovino up in a hug. “Don’t worry, my little tomato! I’ll be back before you even knew I was gone!” Lovino squirmed out of his embrace and placed his hands on his hips.

“Whatever! I don’t care at all! While you’re gone, I’m gonna try to clean and see if I can do it now that my limbs don’t move when I don’t want them to. It shouldn’t be too hard, eh?”

“Wow! That’s a great idea, Lovino! I hope it works well for you! I’ve gotta go, though, so I’ll see you later, okay? Bye, Lovino! Be good!” Antonio trotted away, waving to Lovino as he went.

His little Lovino’s chorea had disappeared after the dance, if only temporarily. And he was so good at it, it was like dancing was second nature. Lovino sure was full of little surprises like that. Antonio hoped he would be able to clean, not because he wanted his house cleaned, but because he wanted Lovino to be able to succeed at anything he put his mind to. It was vastly different from how he treated his other colonies, and the thought of that formed a hard knot in Antonio’s stomach, but Antonio did not mind giving Lovino the moon on a string. After all, Lovino, who danced the tarantella like no other and had the mouth of a drunken sailor, was very, very special.  

                  

_Wise men say_

_Only fools rush in_

_But I can’t help falling in love with you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: The Delicious Tomato Song by YUMIKO


	2. I Want Trees Instead of Gravestones, Nothing to Confess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is significantly darker than the rest of the fic and contains semi-graphic depictions of violence and mental trauma. Reader discretion is advised, and I promise you the chapter will end on a good note.

The wounds on Chirapa’s chest would probably heal into silver, puffy scars. Probably. The Inca looked up at Antonio with fierce defiance in his dark eyes. Antonio smiled sweetly.

“Amen,” he said, finishing the prayer he had been teaching Chirapa.

Chirapa coughed, and blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. “Amen,” he repeated. Antonio nodded, still smiling, and drew back his sword. He slammed the hilt into the side of Chirapa’s head, knocking the Inca over into the dirt. He turned on his heel and walked back to where his Boss stood, her arms crossed.

“Remember your prayers,” Antonio called cheerfully. He heard Chirapa spit a glob of blood onto the ground, and he paused, halfway through a stride. He did not turn around. “Get back to work, savage.”

Antonio joined his Boss, and they began to walk amiably together, leaving the bleeding Inca to lie in the dirt. “Good work, Spain,” Antonio’s Boss said. “Your conquest of the natives is going well.”

“Yes, thank you, I think so too,” Antonio agreed. “With the Aztecs gone and the Mayans and Incas so sick and weak, we are free to do whatever we want. There are rumors of sightings of a new nation in their territory. I have been trying to get information out of them, but no luck yet. Nevertheless, I will find out about this kid if it kills them.”

Antonio’s Boss nodded. “When you find this child, take it.”

Antonio paused briefly to bow. “Yes, your highness.” He jogged to catch up with his Boss, who was moving quickly.

“What is the news of Portugal’s progress?”

Antonio bit his lip and laughed bitterly. “My brother has landed far north of the Inca’s land. I do not know what he wants up there, but with his sights turned away from New Spain at the moment, we are free to do as we please.”

“Good. Make sure your brother does not interfere.”

“Yes, your highness.”

“What news do you have for me about Romano?”

Antonio almost bit his tongue. He glanced quickly up at his Boss, then turned his head back in the direction they were walking. “W-What do you mean?”

Antonio’s Boss shot him a scrutinizing look. “How is he behaving? He is insubordinate. You have had him for about seventy years now. Has his behavior improved?”

Antonio’s mind raced. No, it had not. Lovino still resisted most orders, and his chorea continued to prevent him from the simplest of tasks. He was getting better, but not significantly enough for a positive report yet. Still, if Antonio said that, his Boss might force him to give Lovino up, and he was not ready for that. Lovino was like his little brother. “Well, ha, not exactly…”

His Boss narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by that, Spain?”

“Well, he’s a rather difficult child, you see, and-”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Spain!” his Boss roared. “I want to see progress with Romano! If you cannot get him to do as he should, then we will just have to pass him off to someone else! There is no point in keeping a colony that costs us so much!”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Antonio said, covering his ears. “I’m trying! Please stop yelling.”

“Come here, stupid!”

_“¡Ay! ¡Basta! ¡Lo siento!”_

Once she had finished beating Antonio senseless, she left him with the orders to get Lovino under control, or else. Antonio had nodded, clutching his stomach. When she had disappeared from sight, Antonio sighed. He was doing his best with Lovino, but he couldn’t help but spoil the kid. He was strict with all his other colonies, but Lovino was his exception. He couldn’t hurt Lovino. He hardly ever even raised his voice around him, and when he did, he ended up apologizing profusely soon after. He had instilled in him a healthy fear of God, but at what cost? Antonio just wasn’t cut out to be the bad guy whenever Lovino was involved. It just wasn’t right.

Lovino was, as far as Antonio knew, unaware of the treatment of other Spanish colonies. Antonio did everything in his power to keep that side of him from Lovino, the side of gold-embroidered coats and bloodied swords and decimated native populations. It had come out occasionally, only once or twice, and Lovino had been so frightened that he locked himself in his room and cried for hours. Antonio never wanted him to have to see it again. That was a side of himself Antonio knew he must hide from those who he truly cared about. From Lovino.

That side of himself was one Antonio no longer felt entirely comfortable with. For a long time, it was right, and it was perfect, the power and the gold poisoning his veins like alcohol. There was no thrill as great as holding a sword to the throat of a helpless nation, no drink as quenching as the sound of prayers whispered through tears and hiccups, no sight in the world as beautiful as foreign treasures laying in piles at Antonio’s boots, his, all his. It was all-consuming, and Antonio was exultant, heartlessly satisfied by his own authority. The world belonged to Antonio. All of it.

That had been before Lovino. Around the time Lovino had come to live with him, Antonio began to entertain the doubts he had been suppressing for decades. Most of the time he simply pushed them away, but whenever he was around Lovino, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about his cruelty. Every day, the doubts grew stronger and stronger. Still, Antonio had to push them back down, put them in the back of his mind. He was the great Kingdom of Spain. He had no time for such soft-heartedness.

He glanced down at the sword in his hand. It was not his preferred weapon, but it was the one that granted him the most speed. He preferred his axe. It was a little too large for him – his body was only that of a fifteen year-old – but it was a part of him, an extension of his body. His axe was the weapon he used whenever he was truly conquering, whenever he was murdering.

The sixth commandment. Thou shall not kill. Was sinning worth bringing sinners to God? Was murdering worth… Lovino’s face popped into his mind. He was smiling a rare smile, maybe eating a tomato, his hair rustling in the wind. Antonio gritted his teeth. He had work to do.

He made a quick detour to the kitchens to ingest some liquid courage. It burned the back of his throat as it went down, and washed his doubts from his mind. Then, he went to the armory to replace his sword with his axe. He stopped and chatted with a worker on his way back out, smiling and laughing cheerfully.

“You off to work then, Spain?”

“Yep! Lots to do!”

 “Keep up the good work, sir.”

“Thank you! Have a nice day!”

Encouraged and re-equipped, Antonio strode back out to the courtyard, unaware of the tiny shadow following him. Chirapa still lie in the dirt, his back rising and falling raggedly. His torn clothes were saturated with blood, brown and crimson. He was still fit to work. Antonio grit his teeth, the smile dropping from his face.

“You! What the hell are you doing? Get up,” Antonio roared, striding rapidly towards the Inca.

“Please,” Chirapa begged. He raised his head. His face was pale, eyes dark and full of something wild, something desperate and hungry. “Please. Don’t do this.”

"I ordered you to work, savage.” Antonio stood over Chirapa, his axe held behind his back in both hands. “Get up.”

“Please. I cannot. Please.” Chirapa coughed. Blood pattered into the dirt.

“Get up.” Chirapa did not respond, only pleaded silently with his eyes. Antonio gritted his teeth. It had been too many years of this. If the Inca did not cooperate, Antonio was under orders to kill. He sent a sharp kick to Chirapa’s ribs. The Inca wheezed and coughed up another glob of blood. “ _Get up.”_

He swung the axe around, holding it ready. He wanted to do this. He wanted to do this. If he kept telling himself that, it would be true. It had to be true. He wanted to do this. He had to do this, and he was going to be joyful about it. He was going to do this. He did not hear a tiny voice calling out. He did not hear the tiny cry of, “ _Stop! Per favore! Stop!_ ” He did not hear the tiny whimper of someone who was witnessing something unspeakable. He did not hear. He wanted to do this.

“Please.” Chirapa’s eyes welled up with tears. His entire people’s history was there, their lives and their families, their religion and their art, their politics, their wars, their essence, it was all there in those eyes. Those eyes that would soon film over and stare without seeing at Antonio’s boots. Antonio said a prayer, raised the axe, and brought it down.

“ _No! Boss!”_

The axe hit. He did not hear the thwack. He heard the tiny gasp and the faltering of tiny footsteps. He watched the blood spurt out of the neck onto his boots. The head rolled away, and the Incas saw no more.

“You shouldn’t be here, Lovino.” Antonio’s voice was low. It sounded like the strings of an instrument snapping.

Lovino began to sob. Antonio heard him drop to his knees. He did not say anything, but he wailed. He wailed and he wailed and it was the most heartbreaking, empty sound Antonio had heard in his entire life. The axe in his hands began to shake violently. It clattered to the ground.

“No. _No_.”

He could not turn around. He was not even sure if he wanted to. Lovino simply wailed, kneeling in the middle of the courtyard. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to see. Antonio fell to his knees as well. He threw his head back, his fists clenched, and he screamed. He screamed, angry, wild, and full of despair until something in his throat cut out and he could not scream anymore, but he did not stop trying. All that came out was a hoarse whistle. He did not see anything for a long time, his eyes fixed on the headless body of the Inca Empire. Of Chirapa.

Lovino shoved to his feet and tore away, and his footsteps pulled Antonio from his trance. _Lovino_. No.

Antonio leapt up. He had to- to explain, to- to- to- _apologize_ to- to- mourn to hold Lovino to cry and scream and oh God. He had to find Lovino. He sprinted through the courtyard. There were footprints. He did not tear his eyes away from them. He did not think. He needed to find Lovino.

The child had stowed himself away behind a clef in the wall, arms curled around his knees and head pressed to his arms, sobbing. Antonio found him. He tried to speak. He couldn’t. No sound came out. Lovino snapped up to look at him anyway, and his face twisted in horror.

“ _Get away from me! Get away from me!_ ”

Antonio moved his mouth and tongue, and he pushed air through his throat, but no sound came out. Lovino recoiled back, pressing himself as far into the stone wall as he could.

“ _You monster! You evil, evil monster!_ _Get away from me! Go away! Please!”_

Finally, words came. “Lovino. Oh… God…”

Antonio collapsed against the wall, hitting his shoulder hard enough to send jolts of pain through his arm. He clawed with violently shaking hands at his face, tears pouring down his cheeks. A silent scream escaped his throat.

“ _Get away from me, huh? What the hell is wrong with you?”_

Antonio shook his head, his face still buried in his hands.

“ _You don’t know? What the hell does that mean?”_

Antonio just shook his head faster, and a sob escaped his throat, choked and broken and too high, split in half by the damage to his throat. “Lovino… My God… What have I done?”

Lovino’s face twisted up again. “ _Assassino!”_

Murderer. Antonio was a murderer. He slapped both hands against the stone wall, supported only by his shaking arms. “I can explain… Lovino… Please…”

“Explain, then! You murdered him! You murdered him in… in cold blood! Who are you?”

Antonio shook his head, and the sobs came steadily, ripping from his destroyed throat in bursts. “I have to do this… For my Boss… For my people… For God… I have to do this…”

Lovino sucked in air through his teeth. “You don’t have to kill, idiot! God doesn’t want you to kill anyone! That’s what… that’s what you told me! Was that a lie? Was everything a lie? Answer me, goddamnit!”

“It wasn’t a lie, Lovi… It wasn’t… a lie. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this anymore. Oh, God. Lovino, what have I done? First the Aztecs thirty years ago… now the Incas… I killed them, Lovi. I thought it was right. I thought it was-” His voice gave out. He choked. “I’ve been a fool. I’ve been a drunk fool. Lovino, please, forgive me. I don’t want to do this anymore. _No más, por favor. No más._ ”

Lovino must have seen something in the monster that had become Antonio. He must have seen some glimmer of salvation, some glimmer of truth, some glimmer of the man he had come to know. He must have clung to some foolish, childlike hope that the real Antonio was not a conquistador, or a murderer, or fearful sinner in the hands of an angry God, but the big, stupid _idiota_ that had taught him to dance, and had called him his little tomato, and had tucked him into bed at night and told him he loved him every day. He must have seen the person Antonio was forced to shy away from being, for he did not run away from his Boss. Instead, he rose to his feet uncertainly, and he wrapped his arms around Antonio.

“You’re freaking me out, huh? Get it together, asshole.”

“Lovino… Lovino…” He looked down at the child. “I thought it was right… I thought… Oh God. _No más… no más… por favor… no más…”_

“Who the hell are you?”

Antonio sniffed loudly and studied Lovino’s tear-filled amber eyes. He shrugged, and bent down, enveloping Lovino in his arms. “I don’t know anymore, Lovi. But I don’t want to be him. I don’t want to be him. I want to be… I want to be…”

“Jerk bastard Tonio,” Lovino supplied. “That’s who you can be.”

Antonio tried not to sob again. “ _Si._ Jerk bastard Tonio. Oh God, Lovi. What have I done?”

Lovino was shaking, and Antonio was shaking, and they shook together, clinging to each other for dear life. The world was turned upside down, and it was all because of Antonio. It was all because he had been drunk on power. He didn’t want that power anymore. He simply wanted to stay home with Lovino and pick tomatoes and dance under the stars. He wanted to put away his axe forever. He wanted to be absolved from the horror he had been living.

“I’m so sorry, Lovino. I’m so sorry you had to see that. I’m so- _oh God_.”

“Shut up.” Lovino squeezed him tighter, tears leaking from his eyes. “I forgive you, okay? I think I’m traumatized, though.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”           

He did not stop repeating that, not even after they left to go find somewhere quiet and sunny to sit for the rest of the day, and he did not let go of Lovino, not ever. He tugged him into bed with him before the sun even set that evening, still holding him close to his chest, still whimpering, “I’m so sorry. Oh God, Lovino, I’m so sorry.” Lovino curled up against Antonio, his tiny fists buried in Antonio’s fluffy white bed shirt. He needed the comfort of Antonio just as much as Antonio needed the comfort of Lovino.

“Listen, bastard. I’m only going to say this once, so you better listen, huh? You’re not a bad guy, okay? You just did a lot of bad things. But that doesn’t make you a bad guy. In fact… ugh… You’re actually pretty great. You’re really nice to me, and you feed me, and you never make me feel shitty about myself, even though everyone else does because I’m stupid and I can’t do anything. And maybe you’re too enthusiastic about tomatoes, and you’re nice to everyone when you’re not maiming them, but you’re a pretty great guy, and I… ugh… I like you a lot, okay?” Lovino turned bright red, and buried his face into the sheets. “Okay, I hope you paid attention, jerk!”

Antonio burst into tears again, pulling Lovino closer. “Lovino! That… was so… nice!” In that hollow part of his chest, the part scraped out by his axe every time he struck another person, a dull warmth began to glow. For the first time all day, he did not feel cold. For the first time all day, he was crying not from despair, but from joy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, asshole. It’s bedtime, go to sleep!” Lovino flipped over so that he faced away from Antonio. Antonio hugged him close and cried into his hair. “Cut it out, huh?”

"I just… love you… so… much!”

“Well, could you love me a little quieter? I’m trying to sleep here!”

Antonio nodded, and he chuckled. It didn’t sound quite right, too hoarse and cracked, but it was okay. Everything was okay. He was done. No more. No more of the horror. He was ending it then and there. No more lives taken in cold blood. No more.

He was not afraid of what he would see in his dreams when he eventually fell asleep that night. He need not fear. He had Lovino. Lovino. The sunlight. For the first time in a very long time, he did not have any nightmares, and he smiled as he slept. There would be no more nightmares. Never again. Oh, God. Never again.                 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from: Big Houses by Squalloscope


	3. Can't Help Falling in Love

It was funny how time flew while Lovino was living with Antonio. One day, he was three feet tall with a round face under light bracken hair, and the next, he was nearly as tall as Antonio, his face losing most of the baby fat and his hair darkening to a light chestnut, and still growing darker with each summer. As Antonio physically aged to his early twenties, Lovino grew to look like a teenager, his jawline squaring out and his brow becoming even further accentuated by his ever-present scowl. Although he took to hiding in his room for the years his voice began to crack at every other word, he passed through puberty without any major incident. By the time he was comfortable with his older body and new, surprisingly deep voice, the days spent at Antonio’s house were more or less peaceful.

As Lovino grew up, Antonio could tell that the Italian boy trusted in him more and more each day. He complained less when Antonio would return from work, down in the dumps from the imperialist work he was forced to carry out, and simply did his best to help out. His childhood chorea proved to be just that, completely dissipating by the time his voice began to change, and it made it a lot easier for him to clean house. He still complained and shirked his responsibilities, however, and Antonio still let him get away with it, because after all this time, Lovino was still Boss’s favorite little tomato.

The quality time spent with Lovino was well worth the long hours of grueling, heart wrenching work for Antonio. Although he had given up interest in being a conquistador and a pirate since Lovino had begun to grow up, his Boss still forced him into the work. He would return from months at sea, worn out, grey-faced, and depressed, carrying some new horde of treasure or colony behind him. Lovino would greet him flippantly, hands on his hips, and demand a present of some sort before rushing to bring Antonio clean clothes or cook him dinner or offer to play him a song on the guitar. After the deed was done, Lovino would fervently deny it ever happened. Lovino’s reluctant warmth for Antonio led to long hours spent in the garden or on the porch or in the music room, peaceful moments of stillness in Antonio’s bloody, turbulent lifestyle.

Antonio plucked another tomato from the stem and placed it in a large wicker basket. The Spanish sun was particularly hot that day, and he and Lovino could only work for so long before pausing to take water breaks in the shade of a tree. Both young men worked with a thin layer of sweat coating their foreheads and the back of their necks, yet neither complained. They were enjoying each other’s company. Lovino held a garden hose, lazily splashing the tomato plants in clean rows.

“We sure got a lot of tomatoes this year,” grunted Antonio, plucking another tomato from the stem. “I think it’s even more than last year!”

“Who knows,” said Lovino. He paused to run the water over his tanned bare feet. “But there sure as hell are a shit load of them. Hey, Tonio, why don’t you help me water these things, huh?”

“Lovi, stop wasting the water on yourself,” scolded Antonio half-heartedly, a wide smile on his face. “The tomatoes are thirsty too!”

Lovino glanced over at Antonio, pouring the water from the hose directly into his mouth. He lowered the hose, wiping his mouth and standing perfectly outlined by the sun. Antonio’s heart rate soared, his eyes growing wide. His little brother had grown up so much recently!

“What the hell are you looking at, bastard?” Lovino directed the hose at the tomato plants again, turning away from Antonio. His chestnut hair burned red in the sunlight, framing his new square jaw and high cheekbones. Antonio bit his lip, fighting down the overwhelming urge to run to Lovino and throw his arms around him and swear to protect him with his dying breath.

“You’re so cute, Lovi! When did you grow up? I don’t think I can call you Boss’s little tomato anymore, you’re almost as tall as me!” Antonio wiped the sweat from his forehead and set the basket down. He was just about ready to suggest a break.

Lovino simply shook his head and cursed as Antonio trudged off to drag another garden hose over. The heat was pulling them both down, sending the entire world sprawling into a slow motion trudge. Antonio returned, dragging a running hose with him. He began to water a new row ahead of Lovino, working parallel to his favorite colony.

“This is my favorite thing,” sighed Antonio, gazing at Lovino lovingly.

“What?”

“This.” Antonio gestured to the garden all around him. “Tending the tomato plants, not having to hurt or kill or colonize anyone, spending time with my little Lovi… It’s all I think about while I’m away. I sure hope my Boss gets over this whole imperialism thing soon.”

Lovino scowled. “Don’t call me ‘little Lovi’. I’m grown up, now, asswipe.”

“But, Lovino! You’re my little Lovi!”

“I am not! Stop calling me that and treating me like a little kid still!”

“You may not be a kid anymore, but you’re still my little Lovi!”

Lovino growled, clutching the hose in his hands tightly. “Cut it out, will you?”

“But, Lovi! You’ll always be my little tomato. My little Lovi. Boss’s little Lo- _gyah!”_ Lovino pointed his hose at Antonio, hitting him directly in the chest with the stream of water. The sudden coldness caused Antonio to stumble backwards, eyes wide in shock.

“Cut it out, you big idiot,” snapped Lovino.          

“Oh, Lovino,” grinned Antonio wickedly. “You should know better than to attack the great Kingdom of España. This means war, my friend!”

He directed his own hose at Lovino, who only just barely dodged the stream of water. He managed to soak Lovino’s hip, causing Lovino to retaliate with a stream sent directly at Antonio’s legs, catching him on the thighs. Antonio charged the other young man, holding his hose out in front of him. Lovino turned and sprinted away, but was unable to prevent his entire back from becoming soaked through. Growling, Lovino tossed a stream of water over his shoulder, and he hit Antonio straight in the face. Antonio laughed and shook the water from his hair like a dog and reached his arms out for Lovino, grasping him by the belt loops. Lovino’s foot suddenly caught on something in the dirt, and he tripped, sending both him and Antonio crashing to the ground. Antonio flipped Lovino around so that the Italian lay helpless on his back, crawling on top of him, and poured water from the hose directly into Lovino’s face.

“Okay, okay, enough! I give up! I surrender!” spluttered Lovino, spitting water out onto the dusty ground. Antonio lowered the hose to the side away from Lovino, grinned wickedly, and then hit him again, soaking his entire shoulders, neck, and face. “Hey, dick move, assbrain!”

Lovino scrabbled for his own hose, shooting it up into Antonio’s face and shoulders. Antonio laughed and blocked the stream of water with his hands, and Lovino lowered the hose, soaking Antonio’s torso. Antonio grabbed hold of the hose, and the two men wrestled for it, water flying everywhere in erratic arcs, turning the dirt into mud and their clean white shirts into see-through sopping, dirty messes. Finally, Antonio pried the hose from Lovino’s hands. They went still, chests heaving. Antonio held both hoses pointed away from Lovino in a ceasefire.

“I win,” he grinned, cocking his head to the side.

“I already surrendered, you jackass,” spat Lovino. His soaked bangs clung to his forehead. He pushed them up with one hand.

His face sparkled with water droplets, running down his cheeks and dripping from his square, sharp jaw. His amber eyes somehow glowed with both mirth and annoyance, fixed straight on Antonio’s eyes. He was the vision of beauty, his pink lips pressed firmly together in a tight scowl and his dark hair tousled from the water fight. Antonio’s eyes flicked down to take in his chest, visible through his soaking wet, low-cut white shirt. The drawstrings were coming loose, allowing for a glimpse at his collarbones and pecks. Strong muscles rippled under flawless tanned skin, covered in shining water droplets, and the hot sun seemed to catch him perfectly, outlining him in bright light, the thousands of droplets turning to crystals. His breathing was ragged, and Antonio was acutely aware of Lovino’s lungs rising and falling beneath Antonio’s body.

Antonio leapt to his feet and turned around quickly, heat spreading through his face. He had always thought his love for Lovino was closer to that of love for a little brother, strong protective instincts surging against the desire to hold and cuddle. But now, with Lovino’s beautiful face fixed into that too-familiar scowl, his perfect, strong body covered in shimmering water… Antonio’s heart began to pound out a flamenco. Surely he wasn’t… attracted to his little Lovi? Surely that was not the way he loved him, had always loved him, more akin to a husband than a brother? Surely he had not gotten hard from pressing his groin into Lovino’s strong, toned stomach and gazing into his beautiful, deep amber eyes? Antonio locked up, something salty settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Oh, wow,” he gasped.

Lovino looked pale for a moment, and then he turned red. He scrabbled backwards away from Antonio like a crab and jumped to his feet, whipping his head around madly until his eyes settled on the abandoned wicker baskets full of tomatoes.

“Shit, I should get those fucking tomatoes inside. I’m suddenly really tired I think I’m gonna go to bed now for a long time. A few days. Aren’t you leaving for the New World again in a few days oh damnit what a shame I guess I’ll miss you I’m gonna go inside now _don’t follow me, bastardo, Dio mio, goodnight, Antonio_.” Lovino practically screamed those last words, the climatic ending to his rushed explanation as he fled, sprinting to the house.

“Lovi? It’s only noon,” Antonio called, frowning.

The back door slammed shut, and Lovino was gone. Antonio ran a hand through his wet hair and tried to calm his breathing. Maybe that was it. Maybe that was what he had been feeling for Lovino all these years. Maybe it wasn’t brotherly love he felt for the Italian boy, but romantic love. The more he thought about it, the more horrifyingly appealing the entire arrangement sounded. Living with Lovino forever. Shopping for groceries with Lovino. Going on dates to fancy restaurants with Lovino. Dressing up and going out to parties with Lovino. Drinking wine on the couch and kissing Lovino at three in the morning until they both eventually passed out. Sharing a bed with Lovino. Making love to Lovino. Oh, God, it really wasn’t a terrible idea.

Antonio shook off his fantasies with a groan. Something was wrong with Lovino, that much he could tell, and it was Boss’s job to make sure Lovino was okay. Antonio got up and jogged to the door. He pried it open, and Lovino, who apparently had been leaning against it, tumbled backwards into Antonio’s arms. He screamed and nearly took Antonio’s head off trying to regain his balance and back away at the same time.

“Are you okay, Lovi?”

“ _Perfectly fine_ ,” Lovino shouted through gritted teeth.

“You look like you’re going to pass out. Are you feeling sick? Do you need to lie down? Was it too hot outside?”

“Oh, it was noth- I, uh, well you see- it was, well, that- that was- um, I don’t know what you’re talking about, asshole.” Lovino’s hands wrung his shirt nervously, dripping water onto the floor. Antonio’s eyes followed the movement, and he caught sight of a distinctive bulge in the front of Lovino’s pants. Oh. 

Antonio flexed his thighs, trying to redirect blood flow and praying to God that Lovino didn’t make a habit of staring at Antonio’s waist as well. If Lovino was also affected by the water fight outside, that must mean the same thoughts going through Antonio’s head were going through his.

“Lovino… about what just happened… do you… do you want to talk about it? We can, it’s fine.”

Panic danced across Lovino’s face, quickly replaced by anger, and then despair, and then something Antonio couldn’t recognize. “I- I- I don’t- _chigi_!” He tore away through the house, leaving a trail of water droplets behind him.

Antonio had two options. He could chase after Lovino and let him know that everything was okay, or he could let him go off and be a teenager, allowing him to hide from his emotions. It was an easy choice. Antonio followed the water droplet trail.

He knocked gently on Lovino’s bedroom door. There was no response. He knocked again, louder this time.

“Go away,” came Lovino’s muffled voice.

“Lovino.” He playfully growled his name out using his Boss Antonio voice. It had mostly fallen out of use since Lovino had grown up, but he pulled it out every now and again for the rare occasions when he really meant whatever order he was issuing. “Open this door, I want to talk to you.”

There was a moment of heavy silence, and Antonio was worried that the boy would not answer. Then, he heard scuffling on the other side of the door, and it opened. Lovino’s face poked out, still bright red, looking sheepish and confused. “What do you want, jerk,” he mumbled.

“Can I come in, please?”

Lovino considered this for a moment, then shrugged, stepping back to allow for Antonio to pass through. He led Lovino over to the bed and sat down, sighing. Lovino was old enough to know about the rules of life. Francis had made sure he was quite aware at an age much younger than Antonio had preferred, but that was ancient history at that point. Lovino probably understood objectively what had happened, but he could not know why, or how, and Antonio knew that it was his job to explain it.

“About what happened out there…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Lovino.” Antonio studied his colony. He was so beautiful, how had he never noticed it before? He was beautiful and wonderful and perfect, with shining amber eyes and pink downturned lips, and he was lithe and strong and tan, and so, so, so beautiful, so beautiful it made Antonio’s chest hurt and he gasped slightly, clutching Lovino’s wrist. He wanted him, wanted him so badly, wanted to draw him close and feel his breath hot on his skin, wanted to touch him, wanted to kiss him, wanted everything he was willing to give. It was like a dream, because no one this beautiful, this perfect could really exist. Lovino was impossibly magnificent, and Antonio had never noticed it before.

Lovino’s face was downturned, looking at Antonio’s fingers around his wrist. He drew his right hand up and made the sign of the cross, muttering something under his breath. Antonio caught the word _mercy_ in the prayer.

"What was that for?” Antonio released his grip on Lovino. He had not fully realized he had been holding onto him.

Lovino did not look up. “I’ve sinned.”

“What did you do, Lovi? It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“I… I don’t want to talk about it.”

They were silent for a while. All Antonio could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. Then, Lovino made a move to get up, but he did not leave the bed. He seemed glued in place, frozen halfway through an escape attempt.

"It’s not a sin, you know,” Antonio said suddenly, the pieces clicking together in his mind. “What happened back there. What… what we did. It’s normal.”

Lovino looked up, his eyes wide. “But the church says-”

Antonio waved his hand. “Lovino, listen to me. Don’t ever let somebody shame you into thinking what you are is wrong. Liking… uh, liking men, it’s just as normal as liking women. Or you can like both. Or neither. It’s all normal!”

Lovino was silent for a moment, the gears turning in his head. When he finally spoke, it was unusually quiet, as if testing the waters. “What do you like, jerkface?”

“Me?” Lovino nodded, his eyes full of something unidentifiable. Antonio chuckled. Why did his preference matter? “Oh, I don’t know. I tend to fall for whoever is close to me.” Like Lovino. But Lovino, he was different. He was special. He was something else entirely. Antonio loved Lovino. He would give up everything for him. He was completely and utterly in love with him, unlike anyone else.

“Like Emma.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Lovino looked away, his face hidden by his bangs.

Antonio coughed, surprised. Emma? Did Lovino honestly think he liked Emma? Perhaps at one point, yes, he had been interested in Emma, but that was years ago. Antonio chuckled again, shaking his head and placing his hand on Lovino’s shoulder. “Oh, Emma is beautiful, that’s for sure. But I’m not in love with her.” Antonio could not stop himself from speaking, his voice suddenly gaining intensity, his heart pounding even faster in his chest. “You see, I am in love, that’s correct, I think. But I’m in love with someone else. Someone beautiful, and funny, and wonderful. Someone who I’m very attracted to, and who never fails to cheer me up whenever I’m feeling sad.” He sighed, tightening his grip on Lovino’s shoulder. “Oh, Lovi, isn’t it obvious? I think I’m in love with you.”

Lovino did not respond, but an entire array of emotions flashed across his beautiful, perfect face, as if he could not settle on just one. After what seemed like an eternity, his eyes filled with fear, and all the color drained from his face. He blurted out something that sounded like, _“YousickdisgustingpervertedfreakI’mjustalittlekid”_ an octave higher than his normal voice and he leapt from the bed. He was out of the room and gone in an instant. The words Antonio had poured from his heart hung in the air, fading steadily into nothing.

Antonio’s head dropped. That could’ve gone better.

               

Antonio and Lovino spent the next few days avoiding each other like the plague. It wasn’t so hard, what with Antonio’s house being more akin to a mansion than a cozy Spanish cottage. Lovino kept mostly to his room and the kitchen, sneaking food and alcohol whenever Antonio was most definitely nowhere to be seen. Antonio suddenly found himself intensely intrigued in his other colonies and the obscure parts of his house that he never visited. He had another voyage coming up at the end of the week, and the days were ticking off slowly.

Antonio had too much time to think without the company of Lovino to distract him. For one thing, the impending voyage was filling him with dread, and his Boss was harassing him more than usual in order to make sure everything went as planned. For another, whenever he was idle, Antonio took to remembering his horrifyingly embarrassing encounter with Lovino. He spent days mentally beating himself for being such an idiot, for being smitten with his own colony, for ruining his most treasured relationship in one terrible, inappropriate conversation. Most of all, he thought of how much he missed Lovino. It was hard to appreciate the beautiful Spanish sunshine without his beautiful Italian colony.

At night, when everyone in the house was asleep and the shadows stretched over Antonio’s room, he thought of Lovino. It wasn’t always white hot lust, although that was a common fantasy- Lovino sighing into Antonio’s skin, Lovino taking Antonio’s length in his mouth, Lovino moaning as Antonio showed him exactly how strongly he felt about him. Sometimes, it was more innocent, sweet romantic visions of Lovino smiling his tiny smile at Antonio’s jokes, Lovino stroking Antonio’s face with the gentle hands of an artist, Lovino laughing and whispering sweet nothings back and forth with Antonio in the dim light of the moon. The fantasies were two sides of the same coin; all Antonio wanted in the world was Lovino. Wonderful, beautiful, perfect, special Lovino.

Antonio was set to leave for the voyage the next day, and he still had barely seen Lovino at all. He had sorted out his feelings in the past few days, but he did not know if Lovino would allow him to explain himself. His intentions were pure- he loved Lovino more than anything, and all he wanted was his happiness. If that came with a complete and outright rejection, Antonio was prepared to wait forever for Lovino to choose him. And if he never did, as long as Lovino was happy, Antonio was satisfied.

The final dinner the night before passed without incident. As Antonio excused himself to turn into bed early, he felt a twinge in his heart. He would not be able to say goodbye to Lovino. If something unthinkable happened while he was out voyaging, the last conversation he would have had with his favorite little tomato would be a painfully awkward and bitter way to end their acquaintance. He considered knocking on Lovino’s door and bidding him farewell, but thought better of it. Lovino probably didn’t want to see him.

He turned down the hall to go to his room, but leapt backwards crying out as he almost walked directly into a shadowy figure. The figure stepped into the light, revealing themselves.

"Lovino! You scared the living shit out of me!” Antonio gasped, clutching his heart. “What are you doing lurking in the shadows like that?”

Lovino looked down at his feet, his face a light shade of pink. “I, uh… I just wanted to say, godspeed, Antonio. I… hope you don’t die.”

Antonio grinned. Lovino cared about him after all! He wrapped his arms around the Italian boy and lifted him off the ground, swinging him around in circles. “My little Lovi cares about me! Wow! I’m so happy I could cry! And here I thought you hated me because I creeped you out! I’m so happy you don’t want me to die because that means you don’t hate me! Yahoo! Oh man, I’m so happy right now!”

“Hey, bastard, I can’t breathe,” choked Lovino. Antonio set him back down on the ground with a quick apology. “I never said I don’t hate you. I just said I hope you don’t die. Who would-a cook for me if that happened, huh?”

Antonio’s face nearly split in half from smiling so wide. He had spent all week agonizing over Lovino, dreaming of talking to him again in that too-big house, and here he was, conversing as if nothing had happened. Of course, a great mist of awkwardness hung in the air, but Antonio was too dense to sense it. He was simply ecstatic that Lovino was talking to him again.

“I promise I’ll bring you back tomatoes from America,” said Antonio, ruffling Lovino’s hair. Lovino tried to hide a smile.

“Yeah, okay.” His faced burned a darker shade of pink. “Hey, uh, Tonio… about the other day…”

Antonio held up a hand. “I should really apologize for that. I do not know what got in to me, and it was completely inappropriate. I take back everything. Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay?”

Lovino’s expression flashed into something unreadable by Antonio. He nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay. That’s… that’s fine. That’s good. Let’s do that. It never happened.”

“Yup! Not at all!” Antonio clasped his hands together. “Please forgive me?”

“It never happened, Tonio,” snapped Lovino, his face creeping into a magnificent shade of magenta. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“But please say you forgive me! If I go away to the New World and I have to spend the entire time thinking about how my little Lovi never forgave me for my idiocy, it would be agony. Please say you forgive me, _amigo_.”

Lovino seemed to flinch ever so subtly at the word _amigo_. He nodded again, his face twisted into a grimace. “Fine, fine. I forgive you, idiot.”

A grin spread across Antonio’s face. He threw his arms around Lovino again, pulling him into a tight embrace. He smelt like soap and tomatoes and garden dirt and something dark and musky. Antonio breathed in deeply before exclaiming, “ _Muchas gracias!_ Oh, Lovi, I’m so happy I could cry!”

Lovino shoved him off. “Well, don’t cry on me, bastard. Shouldn’t you be getting to bed? You have to leave early tomorrow, right?”

“That’s right! You’re right! Looking out for Boss, are we? You can’t hide your heart of gold, Lovino.” Antonio winked at him, sending Lovino’s already worrying facial color completely off the charts. He lit up bright scarlet, biting his lip. Antonio was not sure why he was reacting in such a way, but the wiles of Lovino Vargas were truly a mystery, and even he could not crack every single case.

“Agh, just go to bed, idiot,” he grumbled, shoving past him. There seemed to be something unsaid hanging in the air. Antonio could not tell what it was, but he had the overwhelming urge to reach out and grab Lovino’s arm and pull him into a sweet, tender goodbye kiss.

He did not. He watched him go, and then turned and disappeared into his own room. After all, he loved Lovino so much it hurt, but if Lovino was not ready, he would wait. He had no interest in making him uncomfortable if he could help it. That’s what you do when you love someone, Antonio figured- you put their needs before your own.

Anyways, his days of forcing his will were over. He had a bright future in front of him in this life away from imperialist colonization. This was the life spent with Lovino. This was the life he wanted to lead. If that meant hiding away the brunt of his feelings forever, Antonio was willing to do it for Lovino’s sake. This was a good life; he wanted to keep it.

 

_Shall I stay?_

_Would it be a sin?_

_If I can’t help falling in love with you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley


	4. I Carry Your Heart With Me (I Carry It In My Heart)

Just as suddenly as Lovino had arrived at Antonio’s house all those years ago, he left it to go off and live with his younger brother, Feliciano. They should have seen it coming; Lovino and Feliciano had been periodically meeting to discuss unification for years before the fact. Still, it was a shame to see him go.

“You be careful, alright? Take care of yourself! Make sure you eat well! Don’t sleep too much! Try not to get yourself into any trouble. If you need anything at all, Boss will always be right there to help you, all you need to do is call! Say hi to your little brother for me. Gosh, you two are so cute! Oh, Lovi, I’m going to miss you so much!”

“Shut up,” snapped Lovino. “I can take care of myself, huh?”

Antonio wiped the tears from his eyes and pulled Lovino into a tight hug. “I know you can! Just don’t forget Boss, okay? Visit every once in a while! Don’t be a stranger!”

“Can’t… breathe!” Lovino pulled out of Antonio’s arms, looking dizzy from lack of oxygen. “Look, shithead, I’m going to live with my brother now, so I won’t need you to be there babysitting me all the time, capiche?”

“Okay, Lovino,” smiled Antonio. “Just be safe, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Lovino shouldered his bag and turned to walk away, holding a hand up in valediction. “I’ll see you around, jerk Toni.”

“Farewell, my little Lovi!”

Lovino didn’t even complain about the nickname. He simply kept walking down the dirt road, and Antonio watched him until he disappeared over the horizon, gone. It seemed like just yesterday he was a little kid dancing a tarantella to cure his chorea and gripping Antonio’s pant leg in war zones. Now, he was all grown-up, a twenty-something man leaving home for good. Antonio didn’t even try to hide his tears.

The unification of Italy was something Antonio had been dreading for years. He knew that once the two brothers reached an agreement, as they undoubtedly would, Lovino would leave to go live with his younger brother. It hadn’t been Antonio’s place to interfere, as much as he wanted to. If he had his way, both of the Italy brothers would be coming to his place to live with him. But no, Lovino had to leave. It was just the way of things.

It was such rotten timing, too. Antonio had long since molded his intense desire for Lovino into something more manageable, fantasies only entertained in shadowy rooms on dark, lonely nights. Being somewhat dense and entirely too cheerful to notice anything subtle, Antonio had never noticed the lingering looks from Lovino, the change in his demeanor after that one entirely too awkward day in the garden years ago, the occasional suggestive comments, and the way his eyes would take in every inch of Antonio’s body whenever he stood and smiled in the garden, shirt discarded somewhere because of the hot Spanish sun. Antonio never noticed the something Lovino always seemed to be holding back in conversation, the hidden confession lurking at the edge of every word.

Antonio was socially a moron, as he’d be the first to admit, but not entirely oblivious. He noticed greater warmth from Lovino, more smiles and jokes, concern over Antonio’s well-being. He noticed the love Lovino had for him, romantic or not, never directly stated, but revealed through voiced concerns and quiet, peaceful moments with his guitar on his leg, amber eyes gleaming. He noticed the way Lovino would threaten anyone who dared insult Antonio, and he noticed the way Lovino would lean into Antonio on cold nights, completely comfortable. He may have never noticed the desire, but Antonio could not miss the love Lovino held for him.

It did not take long for Lovino to call Antonio begging for help. In fact, it had not even been two days yet. Antonio had been sitting on the side of his bed, eyes shut, humming to himself and wondering idly how Lovino was, when the phone rang. Antonio picked it up, and before he could even utter a, “Hello?” he was greeted by a wall of sound. Feliciano was screeching in rapid-paced Italian, and Lovino was bellowing commands, clearly in distress.

“Lovi? Are you okay?” Antonio leaned forward anxiously. Lovino was in trouble. He had to be. What else could be happening?

“No, I’m not okay!” Lovino screamed. Antonio held the phone a few inches away from his ear. “I need your help, idiot, get over here _now- oh dio Feliciano stop pulling it like that, are you trying to kill me?”_

“I’ll be right there! Hold on, Lovino!” Antonio slammed the phone down on the receiver and pulled on a shirt. He rushed over to the Italy brothers’ place as fast as he could, mind racing the whole time. What the heck was going on? What had the Italy brothers gotten themselves into?

He burst through the door of their bedroom, breathing heavily. Ludwig was already there, and Lovino was slapping him on the bicep rapidly, screeching in an octave higher than his normal voice. The German was crouched between the two Italy brothers, fighting to untangle their stray curls that had somehow gotten knotted together. Everyone stopped and looked over at Antonio as he entered the room, a sudden hush falling over them.

“Oh, Big Brother Antonio! Thank goodness you’re here!” called Feliciano cheerfully, waving. “I called Ludwig to come help us, but Lovino doesn’t want him to touch him, so he called you! And now you’re here!”

“ _Si_ , I’m here,” sighed Antonio, grinning at the brothers. “Your hair got stuck together?”

Lovino rocketed from the bed and shot over to Antonio, dragging a screaming Feliciano behind him headfirst. He wrapped his arms around the Spaniard, sobbing. “You’ve got to help me out here, Tonio! That evil potato-eater tried to touch me with his disgusting perverted hands!”

“I was only trying to get your hair unknotted,” grumbled Ludwig, rising and walking over to the Italy brothers. “You don’t have to freak out about everything.”

“Come near me again and I’ll break all your fingers off, do you hear me you ugly-”

“Big Brother Antonio! Big Brother Antonio! Can you help us get our hair untangled? It’s really starting to hurt and Ludwig couldn’t do it all by himself, but now you’re here, and I’m so glad, so will you please-”

“Stop moving, Feliciano, I can’t separate you two if you keep bouncing around like that. _Mein Gott_ , Lovino, it’s not like I’m trying to-”

"Lovi, _shh_ , it’s okay, Boss is here, but you gotta let me get my hands on your-”

The commotion continued on for a few minutes, with nobody paying attention to anyone but their own loud selves, until Ludwig shook his head angrily and bellowed, “ENOUGH.” Everyone froze mid-sentence and looked over at him. “If we want to get you two unseparated, we are going to have to do this in a calm and orderly fashion. Feliciano, Lovino, for the love of _God_ , don’t move. Antonio, you focus on Lovino’s curl. I will take Feliciano’s. Is everyone clear on the instructions?”

“Hold up,” said Lovino. “No, I’m not. I’m not okay with you touching my little brother like that, you perverted freak.”

“It’s okay, Lovino,” reassured Feliciano. “He’s only trying to help.”

“No, it’s not okay, Feliciano,” snapped Lovino. “Don’t let this disgusting potato-freak soil your innocence.”

“He’s not soiling my innocence, Lovino, he’s just-”

“Are we going to do this all night, or are we going to separate you to?” interrupted Ludwig, his face cradled in one hand.

“No, please help us! You may proceed, Aryan Macho Man!” Feliciano cheered. Ludwig nodded, then indicated to Antonio to get to work on Lovino’s curl.

Their curls had somehow become hopelessly tangled. Antonio had spent enough time on ships to be able to recognize a frankly ludicrous array of knots, and yet, the disaster that bound the two brothers together was so far removed from anything Antonio had ever seen that he was not entirely sure he would be able to separate them. He tugged on Lovino’s curl to test out how strongly it held, and Lovino squeaked, his face turning bright red. Ludwig was already hard at work on Feliciano’s curl, working it between his large fingers determinedly. Feliciano buried his face in Ludwig’s chest, clutching him tightly and whimpering, tears falling from his eyes.

Lovino leaned heavily on Antonio, sweat coating his red face, his teeth clenched into a grimace. Ludwig muttered a command to Antonio under his breath, focused intently on the horror. Antonio’s fingers slid back to pull gently on the curl, giving Ludwig the resistance he asked for. Lovino gritted his teeth harder, his fist balling into Antonio’s military uniform. The curls must have been really hurting the Italy brothers if they were reacting so dramatically.

“Couldn’t we just cut them off?” Ludwig asked. Antonio was not so eager to be finished. With Lovino’s shaking, super-heated body pressed against Antonio, the Spaniard was perfectly content, reveling in what he had wanted for so long. Their waists were pressed together, and Antonio could feel something hard in the front of Lovino’s boxers pressing against Antonio’s own erection. Go figure- it took Lovino moving away for Antonio to get a taste of what he desired.

“No!” cried the Vargas brothers in unison, panic creeping into their voices.

“That would be so very bad, Ludwig,” begged Feliciano.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Lovino added, groaning lowly and resting his head on Antonio’s shoulder.

“This knot won’t come out,” said Ludwig. “What the hell were you two even doing to get it stuck like this?”

The brothers glanced at each other. They were both blushing and sweating heavily, eyes dilated to the size of dinner plates. “Well, Lovino was-”

“Don’t tell him anything, Feliciano, you traitor!” roared Lovino. “Tonio, you asshole, what are you doing? Untangle us!”

“I’m trying my best!” Antonio said. “This damn hair won’t come undone!”

“Please hurry,” Lovino breathed into Antonio’s ear. His breath shot straight through the skin of Antonio’s ear down to his pants, and he gritted his teeth. He pulled gently on the curl, loosing it slightly from Feliciano’s. Lovino stifled a sigh so badly even Antonio noticed.

Ludwig growled in frustration as he pulled Feliciano’s curl free from Lovino’s. The older Vargas brother flew into Ludwig’s arms, knocking the solidly built German backwards and screaming his thanks extensively. Lovino simply clutched Antonio tighter, struggling to regain his breath by panting shallowly against the Spaniard’s neck. Antonio wrapped his arms around Lovino, pressing him closer to his chest, hoping, no, _praying_ that Lovino would beg to come home with him that night.

“Why were you making such a big deal about your stupid hair?” snapped Ludwig, struggling to pry the weeping Italian from around him.

“Oh, well that’s an easy one!” Feliciano said. “Whenever someone touches our curls, it feels really, really good, sort of like how it feels when someone grabs your penis and starts rubbing it really, really gently!”

Ludwig looked as if he had been slapped. “You mean… your hair curl… is an erogenous zone?!” He dropped his head into his heads, looking shell-shocked. “You Italians have an extra pleasure spot? I should’ve known.”

Antonio was smiling on the outside, but inside, he was screaming. All those times he had tugged Lovino’s hair curl to get a rise out of him, all those times the little boy had screamed and called him a pervert… Antonio suddenly needed air, and immediately.

“Where are you going, Big Brother Antonio?”

Antonio tore from the room, searching for a door out. He found his way back to the front door and nearly ripped it off its hinges on the way out. He gasped in the warm night air, very pale. Oh man, did he have a lot to apologize for to Lovino. He placed his hand against the wall and shook his head, a laugh rising in his throat. The world was a funny place.

“What the hell?”

Antonio spun around to see Lovino standing in the doorway. He was wearing a black tank top and pink boxers. Antonio instantly tried to pry his eyes away from the bulge pushing at the fabric. Focus on his beautiful face, focus on his beautiful face…

“What was what, sweethe- _Lovino_ ,” Antonio corrected rapidly, nearly biting his own tongue off. Lovino raised an eyebrow, but suddenly looked exhausted and without the will to argue.

“You just ran away,” said Lovino. “You didn’t even say anything, you just took off. _Por qué_?”

Antonio ran a hand through his hair. “I was just thinking of all those times I tugged on your curl when you were younger. I didn’t know that it-”

“Made my funny bits feel all hot and bothered? Yeah, I know, you’re an idiot,” said Lovino. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. His eyes looked sad. “Is it too soon to go home yet?”

Home. Lovino considered Antonio’s house, not his own, home. Antonio’s heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading throughout his extremities. He smiled and placed a hand on Lovino’s cheek, shaking his head ruefully.

“Oh, Lovi,” he sighed. “Boss can’t help you out for once. I think you’re stuck here, at least for a little while. But you can always visit…” He hoped Lovino picked up on what he was implying. If he did, he showed no sign.

Lovino bit his lip. “I don’t want to live with my stupid brother anymore. He never shuts up, and he smells like garlic, and all he talks about is that repulsive potato spawn-”

Antonio wanted nothing more than to silence Lovino with a kiss. Instead, he rubbed his thumb along Lovino’s cheek, chuckling softly. His little Lovi’s face was illuminated silver in the moonlight, and he looked like a Roman statue, carved from stone into something magnificent, something celestial.

“What the hell are you laughing at, huh?”

“Nothing, Lovi. It’s just, you’re so beau-”

“Lovino! Ludwig is leaving now, like you wanted, so will you come back to bed soon, _fratello_?” Feliciano’s grating voice pulled the two men away from each other, their heads turned into the orange light of the house. Feliciano appeared behind Lovino, clad in a pink tank top and yellow boxers, identical to Lovino’s save in color.

Lovino shot Antonio a glare, a show for Feliciano. “Yeah, fine, whatever. Give me a moment, will you? Jeez.”

Feliciano seemed to pick up on whatever was going on between Lovino and Antonio, and he nodded and bounced away, calling out, “Ludwig, Ludwig~!”

Lovino turned back to Antonio, gritting his teeth. “You see what I have to deal with? God, he’s so annoying.” His eyes flashed with something Antonio could not decipher. “Tonio… what were you saying before?”

Antonio clasped Lovino on the shoulder firmly. “I don’t know, Lovino. It’s late. I’m tired. You look exhausted. Try getting some sleep, okay? For Boss?”

“You’re not my Boss anymore,” grumbled Lovino sadly. “Thanks for, uh, coming tonight, Tonio.”

Antonio pulled Lovino into a tight hug, breathing in deeply for one final chance to ingrain Lovino’s scent into his memory. This was what felt right, what felt natural. If Antonio could spend the rest of his life holding Lovino, he would. By God, he would. Lovino breathed out with a small _hrrmph_ , nuzzling his chin into Antonio’s shoulder.

“Boss will always come for you, Lovi,” Antonio murmured, stroking the back of Lovino’s hair. “Always. I promise.”

Lovino nodded, pulling away. “Alright, now get out of here, bastard. I’ve got to get to sleep.”

Antonio refrained from placing a quick peck on Lovino’s cheek. “Okay, Lovino. Take care of yourself.”

“See you around, Tonio.”

“ _Adios, mi cora-_ _amigo. Mi amigo_.” Antonio sighed and shook his head, turning to go. Lovino had made it clear so many years ago that he was not interested. Whatever Antonio thought he might have been seeing, he was wrong. He was clearly just fabricating the romantic tension between him and Lovino out of wishful thinking. Antonio still had to wait. He would wait forever. He wouldn’t scare Lovino off, not ever.

“For the love of- come back here, bastard.” Lovino let out a strangled breath, grabbing Antonio roughly by the arm. “You know, you Spaniards are supposed to know all about love and passion and stuff, but you’re so oblivious it’s beginning to-a hurt me. I’ve been waiting this entire time for you to kiss me, so why don’t you just grow a pair and do it already, you big stupid idiot?”

Antonio blinked, not sure if he heard Lovino correctly. He couldn’t have. He had to be dreaming. He had to- “What? _Qué_? I’m sorry?”

“Oh my God, why do I even bother,” Lovino groaned. “Lemme explain it to you in your own god-awful language, jackass. _Bésame, mi corazón_.”

He grabbed Antonio by the lapels of his military uniform and jerked him in, closing the gap between their lips forcefully. Antonio melted into Lovino. Ah, this was it. This was everything he had wanted. He simultaneously felt acutely aware of every detail, every little hitch in breath, every little quiver of Lovino’s lips, every little brush of fingertips, and yet, it was as if he were experiencing the kiss from outside his own body, watching the two men embracing, locked together at the mouths by soft, searching lips and grazing tongues. Antonio’s heart pounded so loud he was sure Lovino could hear it, his wrists and fingers and toes gushing with flushed warmth. He sighed into Lovino’s mouth, and Lovino responded by burying his hand in Antonio’s hair and pulling him closer, closer, as if he were drowning and Antonio, Antonio was his air, Antonio was all that mattered, Antonio was holding him and kissing him and they were slipping from time and memory into something great and white and pure and explosive, something beautiful and otherworldly and perfect. There was nothing but Antonio and Lovino, Lovino and Antonio, and there never needed to be.

It was Lovino who broke the kiss, ruefully pulling away a fraction of an inch, his breath still hot on Antonio’s mouth. Antonio placed a small peck on Lovino’s lips, a punctuation, and sighed in ecstasy, pressing his forehead against Lovino’s. Their arms wrapped around each other tightly, the two men stood silently for a few moments, blood pounding in their ears and swimming in their veins hot and impassioned and content. This. This was what they had been waiting for. This was what they had been putting off and prodding and playing at for centuries. This was perfect. This was special.

Lovino closed his eyes. “You probably have to go now,” he murmured. His lips brushed against Antonio as he spoke.

“No, please.” Antonio pulled Lovino tighter, clinging to him like a drowning sailor. “Please.”

“Look, jackass, I have to stay here with Feliciano, and you can’t share the bed with us.”

“I could. Your brother wouldn’t mind. I could sleep between you two and I wouldn’t have to leave. I could stay forever.”

“You’re so cheesy.” Lovino laughed, beautiful and musical and golden, and rubbed his nose against Antonio’s. “I’d rather you didn’t go.”

“Then let’s just stay here a while, _si_? Let’s put off goodbye for just a little bit. I’ve wanted you for so long, Lovino. Now that I’ve got you, I’d be an idiot to let you go.”

“You are an idiot,” said Lovino. “But, you’re my idiot.”

“Yes,” Antonio breathed. “I’m yours. Always. Please.”

“Always,” Lovino agreed. Their lips met again, and there was no other place Antonio would rather be, no where or when or with, because there was no other person as beautiful and perfect and special as Lovino Vargas when he was kissing Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo.

A sound pulled them from their other world, their lips drawing apart as suddenly as they had come together. Ludwig cleared his throat, a light pink blush spreading across his cheeks. He looked very interested in the swirls of the wooden doorframe. Lovino’s arms dropped from around Antonio and fell to his sides limply.

Antonio cleared his throat. “Right. Well then. Um, goodbye, Lovino. You… you take care of yourself. Don’t, ah, don’t get your hair caught in Feliciano’s again.”

“Right, yeah,” said Lovino, his voice suddenly gruff and deep. “Um, you, you, you get out of here, uh, bastard. I can take, I can take care of myself.” His voice cracked and his face turned a bright shade of melon pink.

“Yup. I’ll… see you around,” Antonio said, punching Lovino a little too hard on the shoulder.

“Yup. See you.” Lovino returned the punch, and Antonio winced and rubbed the spot where he had hit. That was definitely going to turn purple. Lovino turned and practically sprinted back inside, shoving past Ludwig wordlessly. Antonio grinned sloppily, saluting Ludwig.

“ _Adios_ , my German friend,” he called.

“ _Auf wiedersehen_ ,” replied Ludwig, blinking rapidly as if trying to make sense of the scene he just witnessed. Antonio laughed nervously and fled, running back down the road he came from.

He could fly if he wanted. Antonio leapt into the air as he ran, his fists held high. He screamed and cheered and laughed and cried, releasing his cocktail of jubilation into the clear night air. Lovino. Lovino was his, and he was Lovino’s, and everything he had hoped for, everything he had prayed for had happened in an instant, and he had been too blind, too oblivious to see it almost happening for years.

There was nothing now, nothing that mattered, nothing that could even compare to Lovino’s lips against Antonio’s, Lovino breathing Antonio’s air, Lovino pulling Antonio closer, and Lovino drawing Antonio away. Lovino was all that mattered. Lovino was what gave Antonio life. Lovino was the air he breathed and the prayers on his lips and the rustle of the leaves on the trees at night. Lovino. No matter what happened, all Antonio cared for was Lovino. There was nothing in the world so perfect, so special.   

 

_Like a river flows_

_Surely to the sea_

_Darling so it goes_

_Some things are meant to be_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: I Carry Your Heart With Me (I Carry It In My Heart) by E.E. Cummings  
> Inspired by the Art: http://teenageunderground.deviantart.com/art/Spain-and-Germany-get-the-two-Italy-s-curls-untied-423704089 teenageunderground's Spain and Germany get the two Italy's curls untied


	5. No One Like You

Antonio was bad at consistency with himself. He had a tendency to sleep in late, and to forget meals, and to get so wrapped up in his work whenever he actually decided to do it that he made himself sick. His internal clock was completely busted, so he just went about his day in any way that felt right at the time, and if he ended up sleeping until one and then doing nothing all day after that, well, hey, at least he enjoyed himself.

Lovino, however, was acutely ruled by his own need to sleep and eat constantly. If he did not get breakfast at approximately the same time every single day, he might die from overly dramatized starvation. If he did not take at least one nap every single day due to having to wake up so early for food, he probably _would_ die, and drag everyone nearby down along with him. And so, Lovino unintentionally gave Antonio an external clock to function on.

The sunlight shining into the room bathed the bed in a white spotlight. Antonio was still out cold, curled serenely around Lovino like a sloth on a tree branch. For a moment, everything in the world was still and pristine and clear. Then Lovino woke up.

“Hungry,” he groaned.

“Ten more minutes,” Antonio mumbled in his sleep, tightening his grip around Lovino.

“I’m hungry,” Lovino repeated. “Make me breakfast, huh?”

Antonio hummed, nuzzling his head into Lovino’s shoulder. He had not fully pulled himself from honey-coated sleep yet, and he was intent to hang on for as long as possible. Lovino squirmed in an attempt to shake off Antonio’s arms and legs.

“Hey, bastard. I’m hungry!”

 With a long, low groan, Antonio opened his eyes. Lovino’s beautiful face, pouting in a scowl, lay across from him, boring into him with annoyed amber eyes. “Okay, okay, I’m up, I’m awake. At least you don’t headbutt me in the stomach anymore to wake me up. That’s pretty nice.”

“If you don’t get up and make me some goddamn breakfast, I might,” Lovino said.

Antonio chuckled and pulled Lovino in to close the centimeter-wide gap between them. Their lips met in a light, breezy kiss, and the day seemed to get a little brighter. Lovino scrunched up his nose, unamused.

“Bastard, I’m hungry, and your breath smells like shit. Come back with breakfast after you’ve brushed your teeth, eh?”

Antonio snickered and pecked Lovino on the cheek. “Anything for Boss’s favorite.” He rolled out of bed, stretching his arms high with a great yawn, and his shirt rode up over his belly-button. He caught Lovino pretending he wasn’t staring with big, soft amber eyes and laughed again before placing another quick kiss on his lips.

He returned twenty minutes later (after he had brushed his teeth, as Lovino had ordered) carrying two plates and set one down on the lap of Lovino, who was sitting up in bed and looking generally pissed off at the light shining through the window. Antonio sighed and drew a finger along the edge of his jaw.

“What the hell are you-” Antonio kissed Lovino again, brushing his tongue gently against Lovino’s. Lovino sighed, adorable and perfect and blissfully at peace for once. Antonio broke the kiss and climbed into bed next to Lovino, nuzzling his nose into the Italian’s neck before starting his breakfast.

“You’re so cute, Lovi,” Antonio cooed. “You make my heart pound whenever I see you because you’re just so cute!”

“Ah, shut up,” said Lovino, a smile in his voice. He looked down, turning red, and shoved food into his face.

They ate in near silence, for it was too early to do much talking yet. The sunlight was behind Lovino perfectly, turning his hair that fiery shade of bronze and highlighting the curve of his profile in white fuzzy lines. It had been years, and Antonio still found it hard to believe that Lovino was actually here, actually his. He had moved back in after World War II ended. He had been completely fed up with his brother, who spent most of his time at Ludwig’s house anyway, and, after figuring that he lived more with Antonio than by himself, he simply showed up one day with the remainder of his clothes in a suitcase and announced he was moving in.

Antonio, of course, couldn’t name a single difference in their lifestyles between the time before Lovino made it official that they lived together and the time after. Days had a tendency of running together when they were spent with the most beautiful, perfect man on earth, drinking wine and watching football and dancing on the patio on clear starry nights. For once, everything was as it should be in Antonio’s world.

Lovino stacked their plates on the table next to his side of the bed once they had finished eating. He muttered something rude that sounded suspiciously like a thank you to Antonio. Antonio knew Lovino better than anything else in the entire world. He may have been completely oblivious to the charming subtleties of most – “All,” Lovino would correct – people, but Lovino was different. Lovino was almost as easy to read as a book. Antonio found that he had always understood Lovino clearly, but he had spent years second guessing, doubting, and denying, too cynically hopeful to see that the truth really was as sweet as the fantasy in his mind. Lovino really wasn’t so hard. When he said no he meant yes, when he called Antonio and idiot he meant he loved him, and when he demanded food and a nap he meant there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be, and no one else he would rather be with. Lovino was simple, he just liked to pretend that he wasn’t.

“So,” he said, practically crawling into Antonio’s lap. “What are you doing today?”

Antonio thought for a moment. Ah yes, there was a world outside of breakfast in bed and Lovino’s secretive affectionate side. The world of sunshine and friends and tomatoes and music. The world he shared not only with Lovino, but with everyone else. The world he would have to return to in a few hours after he had finished convincing Lovino of his love.

“I was probably going to go out with Francis,” Antonio said. “Or maybe pop over to Emma’s for a bit. But I think I might just stay here all day long and do nothing.” He slumped down onto his back, exhaling deeply and effortlessly repositioning his lover so that he lay completely on top of Antonio, their legs and stomachs and chests pressed together. “What do you think, _mi corazón_?”

“I think I’ve got a shit load of work to do today, so if you want to stay here alone that’s fine by me,” Lovino said.

Antonio smiled broader, gazing intently into Lovino’s gorgeous amber eyes. “So Boss only has you to himself in the morning? I guess I’d better make the most of it, then.”

He wrapped his arms around Lovino’s back and kissed him deeply, drawing a faint hum from his throat. This was perfection. There was nothing more enchanting than this, than clean sheets and enveloping Lovino in his love, than mornings spent hearing nothing but their own hot breath against each other’s skin. There was no feeling on earth that was purer or more deeply seated than the love Antonio and Lovino expressed on mornings such as that.

After a while spent in total, ravishingly sexy bliss, Lovino paused his steady panting chirps of, “ _Boss… Boss… oh Dio mio…_ ”, a strange look on his face. Antonio shot him a questioning look, his breathing too ragged for him to be able to speak properly.

“We are really, _really_ bad Catholics,” Lovino said soberly, and he groaned as Antonio pulled out of him to laugh. Then they were both laughing, collapsed into the white sheets and gasping for breath in a completely different way. Having both gone soft, they simply clutched each other tightly, still giggling, and agreed on a rain check.

                 

The group of friends Antonio ran with were so notorious among the nations that Lovino had bequeathed them with the moniker “The Bad Touch Trio”, a variation on the original and more well-used “Bad Friends Trio”. This had occurred on one instance where, in the span of one night, Gilbert and Francis had both made valiant yet failed attempts to grope him, and Antonio had succeeded grandiosely. That particular night had ended in seven smashed glasses, four disastrous games of truth or dare, three bright red handprints on the trio’s faces, and one badly injured stray cat of dubious origin. Lovino had confiscated Antonio’s axe, ordered the trio to remove their pirate garb, and made a rule that no one would intentionally try to bring out the Kingdom of Spain’s conquistador alter-ego ever again. They stopped drinking at Antonio’s house after that night.

Antonio need not have made plans for that day anyway, because Gilbert had texted him, apparently losing his shit, and demanded that he make his way over to Casa Beilschmidt at approximately five p.m. because they had, “totally serious and terrible things to discuss, loser.” Antonio didn’t know what Gilbert meant, but figured it must be pretty bad if he was freaking out about it so much, so he simply shrugged and made his way over to his Prussian friend’s house at around six thirty.

Upon arrival, a German beer that was not to Antonio’s tastes at all was shoved into the Spaniard’s hand, and he was dragged inside and thrown onto the ratty yet somehow immaculate couch next to Francis, who had been steadily pouring his own beer onto the dying plant behind him.

“ _¡Hola_ , Francis!”

“ _Bonjour_ , _mon ami_ ,” Francis said airily. He dropped the empty beer can into the planter as Gilbert stormed into the room.

“Alright, losers, I’ve got a problem,” he said, plopping himself down in a dilapidated armchair across from Antonio and Francis. “I’ve fallen prey to the cruel wiles of the great mistress of sin herself: Love.”

Francis laughed. “Love? Our Gilbert has fallen in love? Our Gilbert, who has sworn himself to a life of bachelorhood and has forsaken love as a cheap trick of the mind perpetuated only by fools such as myself? I knew you would come around!”

“Yeah, and it _sucks,_ ” Gilbert said. His grasp on the French language was surprisingly strong, despite the intense dissimilarity between it and his native tongue.

Antonio was hopeless at German, and he would never request his friends use his own language, and since France refused to speak anything but French when he could manage, the trio more often than not communicated in Francis’ tongue when together. Things had been much simpler when they all deigned to speak English, but those of Germanic and French blood are stubborn.

“Woah, with who?” Antonio grinned, nonchalantly tipping his beer out into the plant behind him. “Oh! Oh! Let me guess! Is it Ivan?”

“ _What?”_

“It surely cannot be my darling Mathieu? Because we agreed that I have dibs. Back off.”

“No, listen-”

“Oh god, it’s not one of us, is it?” Antonio was not quite sure if he was ready to let Gilbert down gently.

“What? No! Gross! Just shut u-”

Francis smirked, a lecherous gleam in his eye. “Ah, but it must be someone scandalous for you to be so worked up about it. Someone forbidden… Someone you cannot have, no matter how much you want them… Someone like… your brother?”

Gilbert nearly choked to death on his beer. Antonio and Francis collapsed on each other, clutching their sides and howling with laughter. Gilbert started spluttering at them in German, then promptly switched to French mid-sentence. “-tell you guys anything. _No, it’s not my fucking brother, you sick freaks of nature_. It’s not _a_ someone. It’s _two_ someones! It’s-”

“So it’s not one of us, it’s both of us!” Antonio high fived Francis for that one, then realized what that meant.

“Wait, no! Uh, Gilbert, that’s really sweet, but Lovino-”

_"For the love of God I’m not in love with both of you!_ ” Gilbert roared. When Francis and Antonio would not stop laughing, he stomped from the room into the kitchen and returned moments later with another beer.

“Alright, alright, we’re done,” Antonio gasped, biting his thumb between his teeth. “Tell us who you’re in love with.”

Gilbert eyed them warily. “Don’t laugh. This is already hard enough as it is.” They looked at him expectantly. “It’s… ugh. It’s Roderich and Elizabeta. I’m hopelessly smitten with both of them and I don’t know what to do. Antonio, would you please try not to look so shocked? Thank you.”

“ _Mon ami_ ,” Francis gasped, a worrying expression settling on his face. “This is an excellent opportunity!”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Antonio interrupted. “And that’s disgusting. Gilbert really loves them, he’s not just using them for sex like you!”

Francis looked offended. “I do not _always_ use people for sex!”

“You only started saying that once you started chasing after Matthew because you wanted him to think your reputation was better. What about Arthur? You keep using him for sex.”

“Arthur is an entirely different story, Antonio. I told you that. There is too much history there and too many petty fights for us to have anything of substance, anything worthwhile. But Matthieu is different, I’m telling you! He is the song that my heart sings, I know it! And it is not just because he speaks French and looks like Alfred but acts less obnoxious.”

“Isn’t it kinda creepy that you want to bang Matthew? Isn’t he like your son or something?”

Francis shot him a cool look. “Tell me, how is your Lovino doing, hm? And did you start making love to him before or after his voice dropped?”

Antonio opened his mouth to respond, but Gilbert cut him off. “Alright, losers, shut up. This is about _me_ and _my_ problems here. You can squabble like silly schoolgirls later when you’re braiding each other’s hair. Moving on to me now! I don’t know what to do and it’s freaking me out! I can’t eat! I can’t sleep! All I can do is think about both of them and that’s not normal!”

“Why don’t you tell them how you feel?”

"Antonio, for God’s sake, how on earth do you suggest I do that? There’s two of them. I can’t pursue a relationship with two different people!” Francis chuckled as if this were a particularly funny joke. “What the hell are you laughing at, Frenchie?”

"Why, it’s simple, really,” Francis said. “Tell them both at the same time. They are clearly already in love, and if what darling Roderich has implied to me is true, then it is quite possible he is in love with you as well. So-”

“Hold up, what did Roddy say?” Gilbert nearly jumped across the coffee table. “When were you talking to him? What do you mean? Tell me things, you beautiful son of a whore!”

Francis went into a long and complicated story involving an impromptu visit to Vienna and what sounded like a very angry swarm of bees, but Antonio lost interest and wasn’t really listening. His mind drifted back to that morning, to Lovino, to promises made around snickers of resuming what they had started that night. His tongue began to feel heavy in his mouth at the thought of Lovino looking up at him through thick lashes, Lovino tilting his head backwards and sucking in air through his teeth, Lovino letting Antonio have all of him in the shadows of their shared bedroom.  He shifted his legs and shook his head, hoping the flush that had spread through his cheeks would dissipate quickly. He tuned back into Francis’ and Gilbert’s conversation.

“-and even if that is true, it does not solve the problem of Elizabeta,” Gilbert was saying passionately. “That woman has been a problem of mine since she was a man! I love her too, what do I do about that?”

“ _Poliamor!”_ Antonio cried suddenly.

“What?”

“Polyamory,” Antonio explained. “You know, more than two people in the relationship? Couldn’t you just do that if they’re interested too?”

“What a splendid idea, Antonio!” Francis beamed. “I was going to suggest something similar.”

"I know what you were going to suggest,” Antonio said, winking. His face became serious. “It’s still gross.”

“Polyamory? You’re suggesting _Polyamorie_?” Gilbert looked like he was going to be sick. He ran a hand through his hair, a look of intense concentration on his face. “Ah, screw this. Love is too complicated for me. I don’t think my awesome self could even handle one partner, let alone two.”

Francis seemed to be intensely offended by this comment. “Love is not too complicated, Gilbert! You simply are new to the game. It is really not so hard if you think about it. Allow me to give you some advice-”

“Advice on juggling two partners?”

“Advice on _love_ , you stupid dolt.”

“Your brand of love is not the kind I’m looking for,” Gilbert said. Then, hastily, he added, “Not that I’m looking for love. I don’t need that. I’m awesome, and I am fine by myself.”

“If you say so, Gil,” Antonio smiled. As long as Gilbert was happy being alone, his crisis with Roderich and Elizabeta didn’t really matter. It was a good thing Gilbert was so sure of himself.

“No, stop it, Antonio,” Francis said. “He clearly is just saying that to make himself feel better about being lonely. If you will not listen to me, why don’t you ask Antonio for his advice? He, after all, is in a relationship that is the very definition of true love.”

“What? Me? I am? With who?”

“I think he is referring to your sexy little Italian trick,” Gilbert said. He sighed and took a magnificently large gulp of beer. “Fine, then. I’ll play your stupid little game. I’m… I’m worried that if I make a move on them, I will lose my mind in a relationship. How can you stand having the same person breathing down your neck all the time? Don’t you get sick of each other?”

Antonio laughed. “It’s love! I wouldn’t want anything in the world but to be with Lovino! I mean, of course we get sick of each other sometimes, but it doesn’t last long. When two- or, er, three- people love each other, nothing bad can happen!”

“I think you’re a little too idealistic,” Francis muttered.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Gilbert scoffed, ignoring Francis. “Bad things still happen when you love someone.”

“Yeah, but they don’t matter as much, you see? The world is so much brighter and more beautiful when you love someone, and when bad things happen to you, they don’t mean as much as they normally would, because life is so good with the person you love. No matter what happens, I can always rely on Lovino to stick with me and get me through the tough times!”

“Is it not _you_ who is always getting _him_ through tough times, though, _mon ami_?” Francis asked, a smirk on his lips.

Antonio chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess so! But I’m always happy to help my little Lovi! Having him by my side makes the sun shine brighter! Sometimes I can’t believe I even have him, it’s so perfect. Whenever times are hard, I can always think of Lovino, and I can get through anything.”

Gilbert looked slightly green. “That sounds terrible,” he said. “I can’t even imagine always having to depend on someone else whenever times are hard. I prefer to live my life in noble solitude.”

Antonio shrugged, smiling sadly. “To each their own, I guess. I can’t imagine always being alone whenever I times are hard. I’d rather have Lovino with me than be alone. Don’t you feel that way about Roderich and Elizabeta?”

Gilbert’s face scrunched up, a thousand different emotions Antonio couldn’t see shifting around in his red eyes. Francis placed a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Are you alright, _mon ami_? You look ill.”

Gilbert shook him off. “I’m fine. I just need to stop thinking about this or I’m gonna throw up. Let’s go out and get hammered. If I have to go one more minute completely sober with those dorks’ faces in my head, I’ll dive in front of a moving lorry.”

At this, Francis perked up, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “There is a great new club at my place that just opened last week. I think I can get us in for free, but it’s going to require high heels and a lot of glitter.”

Antonio groaned and rubbed his feet. “I still have the blisters from last time.”

“Trust me, _mon ami_ , this will be worth it. Is it agreed, then?”

“I’m in,” Gilbert said. “What about you, Toni?”

Antonio shot him a sympathetic smile. He had promised Lovino not to stay out too late that night. Gilbert was his friend, after all, but it was hard to choose between comforting Gilbert and fucking Lovino against the wall. Actually, it really wasn’t that hard. Antonio was a weak, weak man. “Ha, no, I’m sorry. I’ve got to get home to Lovi.”

Gilbert threw up his hands. “Antonio! I am having a mental breakdown here! This is not the time to go domestic! I want to see that fabulous Spanish ass twerking in hot pants in some dingy-ass club!”

“I don’t even own hot pants, Gil,” Antonio protested.

“I do,” Francis said.

“Why do you own hot pants?”

“ _Mon ami_ , the question is not ‘why’, but ‘why not’. And if you must know, they came in handy during the seduction of a beautiful baker and her even more beautiful daughter.”

Antonio shook his head. “I don’t want to hear that story. I’m sorry, guys, but I promised Lovino I’d be home tonight. How could I stay away from him?”

“By coming to the club with Francois and me!” Gilbert cried. “Come on man, what does Lovino have to offer you that we don’t?”

Antonio studied his friends, eyebrows raised. He was not certain if they could understand how he felt. Neither of them had a steady partner. They might not be able to relate to the loyalty he felt towards Lovino, even if they wanted to. Regardless, they were his friends, and they deserved at least some semblance of an explanation.

“He’s the love of my life. I would give up anything in the world for him. I love you guys, too, but I made a promise to Lovino, and I never want to break a promise to him. It’s really important to me, you know? I’ll go out with you any other night, but tonight I belong with Lovino. Please try to understand.”

Gilbert scoffed. “Laaaame. Dude, you’re whipped as hell.”

“I think it’s beautiful,” Francis argued. “The love connecting our Antonio and his Lovino is a stronger bond than any other force on the beautiful earth.” He sighed dramatically, throwing a hand over his forehead. “We should all aspire for a love as beautiful as theirs.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m taking notes,” Gilbert grumbled. “Can we get shitfaced now?”

Francis nodded and stood. “We should leave sooner rather than later. Are you sure you won’t be joining us, Antonio?”

“I’m sure,” Antonio smiled. He stood as well. “Thank you for inviting me, though! I want to see pictures tomorrow. Hey, Gilbert, we can go out later this week, okay? Just let me know when you’re free!”

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you, traitor!” Gilbert snapped. Then, he grinned crookedly and rose to his feet, holding out a hand for Antonio to shake. “I’m just kidding. We’re going to Munich this Friday and you’re driving. No excuses!”

Antonio laughed and took his friend’s hand, pumping it in a friendly handshake. “Alright, alright. I can do that. Have fun tonight! Don’t do anything too stupid!”

“Please,” Francis said. “We are going to wake up in bed with four different women at three in the afternoon tomorrow with matching tattoos of the Eiffel Tower.”

“Don’t you already have one on your-”

“It’s irrelevant.”

Antonio bid Francis and Gilbert goodbye and headed out the front door while they discussed plans for getting ready. He was grateful to his friends for not pressing the matter, but all he could think of was Lovino waiting at home for him, surely done with his work by now. He would probably be stressed and tense from the menial labor. Antonio would take great joy in getting him to loosen up. He licked his lips and pulled the keys out of his pocket to unlock the car door.

The lights were off in the house when Antonio came home. He was not sure if Lovino had gotten back from work yet. He wandered around, flicking on the lights in the kitchen and any other room Lovino was likely to be found in, calling his name.

Finally, he reached the bedroom, and when he turned on the lights, he found Lovino asleep in the bed, fists curled into the blankets. Antonio felt a smile spread across his face. Lovino was the most adorable thing he had ever seen. He looked so innocent, so peaceful with his mouth slightly open and his hair in his face. All of Antonio’s plans for that evening cooled and melded into an intense desire to simply hold Lovino in his arms, place a soft kiss to his temple, and drift to sleep. His eyes felt heavy. It had been a long day. He flicked the lights back off again and tiptoed across the room, trying not to wake his love as he crawled into bed next to him.

“Mm, Tonio?” Lovino was still sleeping, but he nodded into the pillow, eyelids fluttering.

“ _Si_. Goodnight, Lovi.”

“Oh. Goodnight Tonio. I love you.”

Antonio almost screamed. This was too cute. He was about to die, surely, if his heart beat any faster. He traced a finger along Lovino’s bicep softly and bit his lip, unable to keep a smile from his face. “I love you too, Lovi,” he said, and he meant it so much it hurt.

Antonio began to drift swiftly off to sleep, and his lurid fantasies of Lovino transformed into their sweeter counterparts- Lovino smiling in the moonlight, Lovino grasping Antonio’s hand and tracing circles with his thumb, Lovino half-whispering Italian love songs into Antonio’s ear, tucked away in some obscure corner away from the rest of the world. Antonio was nearly dreaming when Lovino spoke again, mumbling in Italian.

“Still waiting for that rain check, bastard.”

Antonio smiled. He would deliver the next day. But now, all he wanted was a night of sweet, innocent sleep. He pulled Lovino closer and nuzzled into his neck. He might have hummed a response before falling into a peaceful sleep with Lovino wrapped in his arms safe and sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: No One Like You by Scorpions


	6. Bésame Mucho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Eat your heart out, Strummer." - George DeValier, at some point, probably.

Feliciano had been pestering Lovino for months to visit with Antonio before the older of the Vargas brothers finally conceded. Antonio was, in Lovino’s words, “overexcited, bastard.”

“You’ve known my brother for years,” he protested, running a comb through his hair.

“But I haven’t seen Feli in so long now! Not since, gosh, when was the last world meeting? Four months ago? Pass me my toothbrush, please, sweetheart. Thank you!” He placed a kiss on Lovino’s cheek.

“Stop calling him ‘Feli,’” Lovino grumbled. “No one calls him that.”

“I call him that! I can’t wait to see him and Ludwig and Roderich again. It’s been so long! Like, months!” He handed his toothbrush back to Lovino, who placed it back on the stand. “Aren’t you excited to see your brother?”

“Oh, yeah, _overjoyed._ ” Antonio didn’t catch the blatant sarcasm.

               

Feliciano greeted his brother with a hug and a light kiss on each cheek. Lovino struggled his way out of Feliciano’s arms, and looked on with a glare as his brother greeted Antonio in a similar way. Antonio was more enthusiastic than his partner about the hugs and kisses, returning them amiably. Lovino’s agitation flew completely over his head.

“Hi, Ludwig! How are you?” Antonio waved at the tall German who stood in the doorway behind Feliciano. He looked like his stomach was seriously paining him. Then again, he always looked that way.

“I’m fine, thank you. And you?”

“Me? Oh, I’m great! Thanks for asking!”

Whenever they were together, the Vargas brothers, Antonio, and Ludwig spoke in English. Lovino was personally offended by how horrific Ludwig’s Italian was, and the state of Antonio’s and his German was lackluster to say the least. Anyway, Ludwig couldn’t speak a lick of Spanish. No one really minded English, anyway.

Ludwig forced tea into the visitors’ hands as they sat down on the couch in the living room. Feliciano was off, talking animatedly about a cat he had met that morning. Antonio smiled politely and listened, nodding along and asking the occasional question. He did not notice Lovino glaring pointedly at Ludwig and making threatening hand motions every now and then.

As they listened to Feliciano prattle on, Antonio absentmindedly knocked his foot against Lovino’s. The Italian returned the knock almost immediately, slightly harder, a muscle working in his jaw. Antonio took this as a declaration of war, and he tapped Lovino’s foot a second time. Lovino clenched the fist that was resting casually on Antonio’s knee and kicked back even harder. A small smirk stretched at the corner of Antonio’s mouth.

“…but I don’t know, what do you think, Lovino?”

Lovino’s head snapped over to his brother. He had not been listening. “What? I don’t know. Don’t ask me things so quickly!”

“But I didn’t… Oh, Lovino, you’re so funny!”

“Yeah, ha ha,” Lovino grumbled. Antonio, who had his arm wrapped around Lovino protectively, started to trace letters into Lovino’s shoulder. Lovino tensed, his face turning light pink.

“I said, I think that if Ludwig and I got a cat, it would get along fine with the dogs! What do you think?”

“I don’t care,” snapped Lovino. “I think you should just get rid of the dogs.” Antonio ran his hand smoothly up and down Lovino’s arm. He shifted his legs and shot Antonio a narrow look.

"Oh, we couldn’t! We love them so much! You’re only saying that because you don’t like Ludwig, but I don’t see what there isn’t to like! He’s really strong and nice and handsome and he’s actually pretty romantic when he tries to be!”

“Gross,” Lovino said. “Don’t say such nice things about the macho potato asshole. It’s bad enough that you live with him.”

“I’m right here,” Ludwig said, but he didn’t sound surprised or offended.

“You should give Ludwig a chance, Lovino! I mean, I love Big Brother Antonio. Could you please at least try to be nice to him for me?”

“That’s- that’s different, idiot.” Antonio smiled at Lovino, who blushed slightly deeper. Watching the Vargas brothers interact brought Antonio so much joy. They were so adorable when alone, but when they were together, it was almost too much to handle.

“You two are so cute!” Antonio gushed. “It’s- oh! Hello, Roderich!”

Roderich, who had wandered into the room, looked surprised to see Lovino and Antonio sitting on the couch. He waved tentatively.

“Oh, hello Antonio. I didn’t know you would be here today. And, er, hello, Lovino.”

Lovino grunted and took a sip of his tea, shaking off his brother’s frantic pats on his arm. “What? What do you want, Feliciano?”

“I just wanted to say that I’m happy you’re visiting, Lovino! And I wanted to know why you’re so grumpy today!”

Antonio cocked his head. Lovino was grumpy? Perhaps he needed to pay more attention. He traced the tips of his fingers in a circular motion along Lovino’s neck where it met his shoulder.

“I’m not grumpy,” Lovino said. “You’re just annoying, alright?”

“Is it because Big Brother Antonio is here with you?”

“I would think that would make him more at ease,” Ludwig said.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here, bastard,” Lovino snapped. “I’m not grumpy, so shut up, okay?”

“I’m so happy Big Brother Antonio came to visit! With him and Gilbert and Big Sister Elizabeta coming to visit, it feels so much like when I was a little kid. Only now, Lovino is here, and Ludwig is here instead of-” Feliciano stopped himself, an uncharacteristic look of pensiveness on his face.

“Yes, quite,” said Roderich. He looked like he desperately wanted to excuse himself, but could not foresee how to do so without being rude. Antonio didn’t pick up on that, though. Lovino was growling low in throat at Ludwig, like a dog. Antonio laughed and placed a kiss to his cheek, causing him to turn red.

“Oh, wow, yeah,” Antonio said. “That’s right, you used to live with Roderich and Elizabeta when Lovi was living with me. I didn’t think Gilbert was around much then, though.”

“He wasn’t,” said Roderich quickly.

“You had cute little Feli, though! I was so pissed at the time when you wouldn’t trade him for Lovino, but now I’m glad you didn’t. Lovi sure was tough as a kid, but he came around.” Antonio placed another kiss on Lovino’s cheek. Lovino frowned, not quite angry, but something else Antonio couldn’t identify.

"It’s funny,” Ludwig said with a frown. “I feel as if I can remember that, yet, I did not live here at the time.”

“Memory can be tricky,” Antonio said. “I don’t remember a lot before Lovino came to live with me, but sometimes I feel like I can remember stories other people tell, even though I know I wasn’t there. It’s weird.”

“Yes,” Ludwig agreed, still frowning.

“Hold on, bastard,” Lovino hissed. He looked like he was going to be sick. “You wanted to trade me for my brother?”

“What did you say, Lovino?” Feliciano cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t hear you.”

“None of your damn business! You’ve got some explaining to do when we get home, bastard.” Lovino threw back the rest of his tea and tore away from Antonio’s arm violently. He muttered something about getting some air and hastily fled the room.

“Lovino?” Feliciano bit his lip, eyebrows low. His big amber eyes were full of concern.

“Tactless, as usual, Antonio,” Roderich sighed.

“What do you mean?” Antonio couldn’t figure out why Lovino was so upset. He had asked to trade the Vargas brothers years ago, way before he had even realized what Lovino meant to him. That was ancient history. It was before Sadiq had attempted to kidnap Lovino and Antonio had waged war upon him in retaliation, the catalyst that led to warmer relations between the two countries eventually. History was full of weird little oopses like that. South Italy had turned out to be much more valuable to Antonio than North Italy, after all.

“Honestly, Antonio, I worry for you,” Roderich said. “Clearly, you’ve made Lovino upset by bringing up wanting to trade him for his brother.”

“I did? But why?”

“I guess it’s because Lovino has always thought everyone likes me more than him,” Feliciano said. “Which, I guess is true, but it wouldn’t be that way if he wasn’t so mean and prickly to everyone like a hedgehog! He’s really cute and funny and smart!”

"I don’t see why that would upset Lovino,” Antonio frowned.

“No, you wouldn’t.” Roderich shook his head. “He probably doubts everything you’ve ever done for him now that he knows you wanted his brother more than him. You should go and set the record straight before he builds this up in his mind even more.”

“You should listen to Big Brother Roderich! He’s dating _two_ people, so he must know a lot about relationships!”

Roderich tugged at his cravat. “Yes, quite.”

Antonio sighed and stood up, still feeling confused. “Alright. I’ll be right back, I guess.”

Lovino was standing outside on the porch, facing away from the front door and leaning heavily on the banister. He did not turn when Antonio opened the door and crossed over to him. His shoulders were shuttering slightly, and his teeth chattered. He was crying.

“Lovino? Are you okay?”

Lovino didn’t answer, but he inched farther away from Antonio. He sucked in a shaky breath through his teeth.

“Is this about what I said about trading you for your brother?”

“Very perceptive of you, bastard. Did you figure it out for yourself, or did they have to tell you?”

“Lovi, _mi corazón,_ that was years ago. That was before I-”

“Save your breath, Antonio,” Lovino snapped bitterly. “I don’t want to hear it right now. Can we go home?” He took another deep breath. “Please?”

“Yes,” Antonio said gently. “I’ll go tell them we’re leaving. Get in the car.” As he was walking through the front door, he turned back to look at Lovino, who hadn’t moved yet. “ _Ti amo molto_.” Lovino didn’t respond.

When Antonio told the others they were leaving and thanked them for their hospitality, Ludwig fixed him with a grave look.

“Good luck, _mein Freund_.”

“Remember, if Lovino’s upset, just kiss him on his-”

“I don’t think that’s very good advice in this situation, Feliciano,” Roderich said anxiously.

Lovino didn’t speak the entire car ride home, and the uncharacteristic silence was unsettling.  Antonio tried to start conversation multiple times, but Lovino never responded, and the Spaniard trailed off into silence, gripping the wheel tightly. He tried to run over every possible reason Lovino had for being upset, but he could draw nothing. When they got home, he intended to ask, but for now, he decided to leave Lovino alone.

The confrontation finally exploded in the kitchen. Lovino had made a beeline there, and took a dangerously large gulp from a bottle of wine. Antonio hung back a few feet, his eyebrows knit together.

“Lovin-”

“Shut up,” Lovino snapped after he had finally finished spluttering and set the wine bottle back down. He pointed his finger at Antonio. “I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Lovino, please, tell me what I-”

“What you what? What you did? What you said? How the hell are you this dense, huh? Just go away.” Lovino leaned on the counter heavily. He looked so small, so heartbroken. Antonio tentatively took a step closer as if approaching a wild animal.

“Lovino, I’m so, so, sorry. Please, just listen to me. When I asked Roderich to trade Feli for you-” Lovino made a pained little squeak and turned his head away. Antonio continued his cautious approach as he began to speak again. “When I asked Roderich to trade Feliciano for you, that was before I realized how much I loved you. That was before-”

“Before what? Before you realized that you didn’t stand a chance at getting your hands on my little brother?”

Antonio was not quite sure how to answer that. “No, Lovi. It was back when I thought the grass was greener in the north of Italy. I was wrong, though. I don’t want him. I want you, okay? I just want you.”

Lovino grimaced. “But why me, huh?” he demanded, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “Why do you keep bugging _me_? Why not my perfect little brother?”

Antonio stared at Lovino, at a loss for words. How could he even think that? How could he not see how beautiful he was? How could he not see how wonderful and clever and funny and talented he was? How could he not see how impressive his hard work was, how could he not see how breathtaking he looked in the moonlight, how could he not see the way his eyes lit up like a little kid’s whenever he was praised? How could he not see how irreplaceable he was, how genuinely valuable and beautiful and wonderful he was? How could he think for even a second that Feliciano meant even a fraction of what Lovino meant to Antonio? How could he not see how special he was?

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself, huh?” Lovino yelled, his voice cracking dangerously. “I’m waiting, goddamnit!”

“Oh, Lovino,” sighed Antonio, shaking his head and pursing his lips into a small, sad smile. “Do you honestly think I could ever want your brother more than you?”

"Why not? Everyone else does. He got all of Grandpa’s talent and good looks and I got nothing. And he’s so friendly and open, even though he’s annoying as hell and always screaming for someone to play with him, and I’m so mean to everyone and no one ever wants to be around me… No one _ever_ wants to be around me. You probably are only interested in me because you couldn’t get to my brother and you wanted Grandpa’s inheritance!” Lovino turned his head away angrily in a poor attempt to hide his tear-stained face from Antonio. Antonio did not know what to say.

Instead, he reached out his arm and caught Lovino underneath the chin, tilting his head so that he looked up straight into Antonio’s eyes. He pleaded with his eyes to Lovino, begging him to understand, begging him to abandon his self-loathing and his thoughts of despair. There was so much darkness in Lovino, darkness that he fed day in and day out with the same hateful slew of self-doubt and false comparisons to his brother. It left a deep cavity in Lovino’s chest. All Antonio ever wanted was to fill that cavity with light. All he wanted was for Lovino to love himself just as much as Antonio loved him.

“Lovino Vargas,” said Antonio solemnly. “That is so far from the truth. You and your brother are different, it’s true, but just because he is good at things you’re not does not make you inferior.”

"Grandpa always liked him better,” grumbled Lovino.

“You don’t know that,” protested Antonio. “You have a habit of building things up in your head that aren’t real at all. You’ve gotta learn to let things out, Lovino, and to not dwell on all the bad things that are in your head. You can always tell me these things, you know that, right? You can tell me anything.”

Lovino looked away. Antonio nodded to himself, his arm sliding down to grip Lovino by the bicep. He continued on, his voice growing in intensity.

“Whatever you think my motives are, you’re wrong. I’m interested in you because you’re so kind, and cute, and clever, and funny, and strong, and wonderful, and I can’t help but fall in love with you all over again every single day. Frankly, I don’t give a damn about your Grandpa’s inheritance. I want you because I want _you_.” He tried to chuckle, but it came out as more of a sob. “I want Lovino Vargas because he works so hard, and feels so much, and I would be an idiot for letting someone as incredible as you get away. You’re clouded in darkness, Lovino. Let me be your sunlight.”

Lovino blinked his big teary amber eyes, and Antonio’s heart just about beat out of his chest. Then he wailed, throwing his arms around Antonio’s middle and sobbing into his chest. “That was so cheesy,” he stuttered through gritted teeth before wailing again and descending into incoherent spluttering Italian, soaking the front of Antonio’s shirt wet with tears. Antonio rubbed his back with one hand and his hair with the other, shushing him and cooing gently.

“Boss’s got you,” he soothed. “It’s okay.”

Lovino clenched the fabric of Antonio’s shirt in his fists. “Stop calling yourself ‘Boss’.” His voice was weak and muffled, his face still pressed against Antonio’s chest. “You’re not my Boss.”

“I’ll always be Boss,” laughed Antonio. He leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of Lovino’s head. “And you’ll always be my little tomato.”

“I’m gonna punch you in the fucking stomach,” moaned Lovino.

“You’re so cute! How are you this cute?” Antonio traced circles with his thumb behind Lovino’s ear.

“Don’t call me cute,” Lovino responded immediately. He paused. Sheepishly, he asked, “What else am I?”

“Well,” said Antonio. “You’re smart, and you’re witty, and you always have the most creative insults, and you’re a good cook- no, a great cook, even though you make me make you all your meals, and you can dance like no one else, and you’ve got a beautiful singing voice, even though you usually yell at me to leave the room if I ever walk in on you singing, and you always dress really nicely, and you can be very brave in some cases…” He sighed, gazing at his beautiful Lovino as if he were the blue sky after a rainstorm. “Oh, I could go on forever, Lovi. You’re everything.”

Lovino was silent for a while, save for some sniffling, muted against Antonio’s shirt. Antonio absentmindedly ran his fingers through Lovino’s hair, sifting through the soft, dark locks gently. Then, Lovino took a deep breath. Every word he spoke sounded like it pained him greatly, but he also seemed to mean it all sincerely. “You’re… you’re perfect, Antonio. I don’t know how I got so lucky to be stuck with you. You just- you look at me and you don’t see me as some sort of fuck up, you see me as something else, and it- it feels good, you know? You look at me like a person and it makes me… damn it. I don’t know. I- yeah. Yeah.”

Antonio’s heart might have stopped for a second. Then, a wide smile crept onto his face, his chest filling with that sweet warmth Lovino always managed to bring to him. There was something else there, too. A burning desire, a wave of fierce protectiveness washing over him. There were people in the world who had hurt Lovino simply by looking at him coldly. Antonio had hurt him as well by doing so much more than that. No more. He looked down at his Lovino, his beautiful Lovino who looked lost and broken. He was going to protect him as he had always done, no matter what.

“Lovino?” he hummed.

“What?” He was blushing bright red, back to playing tough in self-defense.

He twirled Lovino’s stray curl around his finger. “ _Bésame_.”

He pressed his mouth against Lovino’s so forcefully that their teeth clanked together, but he did not pull away, sucking all the breath from Lovino’s mouth hungrily. Their tongues interlocked desperately, Lovino struggling to keep up as Antonio pressed harder and harder, seeking more, more of Lovino, more of his lips and his tongue, more of his passion, more of his sighs and his moans and the way his hands trembled, clenched in Antonio’s shirt. Antonio growled and placed his hand on the back of Lovino’s neck and pulled him closer, ever so closer, to a place where nothing bad could harm him. Lovino moaned hotly against Antonio’s tongue, letting Antonio push and pull, laying himself in Antonio’s hands.

Lovino had melted into Antonio, finally fully understanding what he had been trying to say. He did not want Feliciano, would not want him to take Lovino’s place. Antonio kissed the tears on Lovino’s face away, down his cheeks and his chin. He slipped Lovino’s earlobe into his mouth and slid his tongue around it, and Lovino gasped slightly, digging his hands into Antonio’s back.

“Bedroom,” breathed Antonio, his pants uncomfortably tight. “God, please.”

Lovino allowed himself to be led to the bedroom, allowed Antonio to roughly unbutton his shirt with shaking hands and plant hot, sloppy kisses along his collar bone and neck. He threw his head back and groaned through his teeth, tangling his fingers in Antonio’s hair. Antonio pulled off his own shirt and tossed it aside, sitting Lovino down on the edge of the bed and kneeling before him. He pressed their mouths together again, another growl escaping the back of his throat.

“What… the hell… has gotten… into you?” panted Lovino whenever he could get air. Antonio worked his lips away from Lovino’s mouth, down his neck again, pulling even more moans from Lovino’s lips. He pushed Lovino back, laying him flat on the bed, and climbed on top of him, peering down at him as they reached a moment of stillness, chests rising and falling heavily. Lovino was his, and he was safe in the possession of Antonio. He belonged to Antonio, completely.

“I told you,” Antonio grinned. “I’m still Boss. And now-” He kissed the corner of Lovino’s mouth. “-Boss doesn’t have to hold anything back-” His hand slid down to below Lovino’s waist. “-because his little Lovino-” He gripped his erection firmly, causing Lovino to gasp for breath. “-is all grown up.”

“You _would_ get off to this ‘Boss’ crap,” shot Lovino. “Whatever, I’m not calling you- _chigi, Boss!”_

Antonio had pulled down Lovino’s pants and taken his cock in his hand, thumbing the tip with just enough pressure to make Lovino cry out and arch his back. Lovino started to swear heavily under his breath as Antonio began pumping his hand up and down his shaft, unbuttoning his own pants with his other hand.

“Oh, _Dios_ ,” hissed Antonio. “I love it when you call me Boss.”

“You’re gross,” whined Lovino, in no position to be saying such things. Antonio reached over to the bedside table and opened the drawer to pull out a bottle of lubricant.

“Already?” Lovino asked through shaky breaths.

“Is it okay?”

“God, _yes_.” 

Lovino moaned as Antonio placed two fingers inside him to stretch him out. Then, he entered him, perhaps not as gently as he should have, but he was so anxious to be inside Lovino, to pull him close and to draw his name from his lover’s lips, to protect him and to own him completely. Lovino clawed at his back and hissed at him to slow down, eyes suddenly sharp and focused with pain.

“Sorry,” Antonio murmured. Lovino may have been his, but he would not hurt him or disrespect him, not now, not here, not in any way. He wanted nothing more than to serve Lovino, to make him cry out, to make him feel good, to make him forget the darkness inside of him. He slowed down considerably, drawing himself almost fully back out before gently inching back in. They sighed in unison, and their lips met again hungrily.

It did not take long for the rhythm to pick back up, crescendoing into a fast-paced dance as white hot pleasure connected the two lovers and swam through their veins and clouded their minds until all they could think of was each other and nothing else. Antonio sucked on Lovino’s tongue, nibbled his lips, pressed his mouth to that spot on his neck that made him cry out, _“Boss, ugh, boss!”_ as he expressed his absolute adoration for him in the best way he knew how.

They lost themselves in each other, skin on skin, friction casting sparks between their bodies. Stupefying, numbingly hot pleasure flooded Antonio’s mind. His Lovino was safe, and he was his, and no one else could have him, and he wanted no one else. There was no room for darkness or anxiety with their bodies pressed so close, no room for bad memories or long-forgotten history. There was only Lovino clutching Antonio, and Antonio driving his hips into Lovino’s, and their names on each other’s lips, thrown into the air like prayers offered to God. And just when Antonio thought he could not soar any higher, could not give himself any further to Lovino, could not take an inch more, he released everything, crying Lovino’s name. Lovino followed shortly after into Antonio’s hand, groaning and throwing his head back.

Antonio collapsed next to Lovino on his back, crossing both arms over his eyes. They lay there in silence, their chests heaving, minds still swimming with white hot passion. Antonio flopped one arm down and grasped Lovino’s hand, rubbing it with his thumb, still unable to speak.

“Wow,” said Lovino finally. There was beat, and then they both began to laugh, rolling to their sides and curling into each other. Antonio took Lovino in his arms.

“I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life,” Antonio panted. His entire body was buzzing as if he had been shocked. He shook his head to clear away some of the fuzziness, but his mind still remained jumbled, and he simply released a heavy breath and stared up at the ceiling, awestruck.

“That was good,” agreed Lovino, voice shaky. The understatement caused them both to laugh again.

“You see? Add that to the list of things you are,” said Antonio. “Really, really, crazy sexy.” He kissed Lovino on the lips, not as hungry as before, but still aggressive, possessive.    

“I bet Feliciano can’t be that sexy,” challenged Lovino into Antonio’s lips. Antonio smiled and drew back.

“You’re both cute, that’s for sure,” said Antonio. “But I don’t anyone in the world could be as sexy as you are, sweetheart. You do crazy things to me.”

Lovino rolled to his other side, a small smile on his face. “Hell yeah I do… Boss.”

“I was never Feliciano’s Boss,” Antonio pointed out. “And I don’t sleep with anyone else who I used to be the Boss of. Hell, I don’t sleep with anyone but you. I’m just your Boss, Lovino. And I swear, I’m gonna protect you from everything bad. You can always count on Boss. Always.”

“Yeah, I can always count on Boss to fuck me well, say sappy things, and bail me out of tough spots,” said Lovino. He chuckled hoarsely. “You’re pretty useful, Tonio.”

Antonio smiled. “I live to serve, _mi corazón_. No one else. There’s no one I would rather have but you. I wouldn’t trade you for anyone, not for Feliciano, not for anyone else. I just ask for one thing in return.”

Lovino rolled back over to face Antonio, a curious look on his face. “Oh yeah, bastard? And what’s that?”

“Please, please, please give me _you_. Give me all of you, and never stop. Never stop telling me when I’m an idiot. Never stop loving me. Never stop letting me have you and do whatever I want with you. Please, let me have you forever.”

Lovino studied Antonio’s green eyes, a blank expression on his face. “Bastard, when the hell have I ever not done that?”

“Oh, God, Lovino. Never. But don’t ever do it. Please.” And then he kissed him, holding his face in his hands, and they lost themselves in each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: Bésame Mucho, written by Consuelo Velázquez


	7. Love Is Gasoline, And He's The Match

Since Antonio and Lovino first met, centuries had passed. Few European nations had spent so much time together, save perhaps Sadiq and Heracles, whose relationship was complicated, and frankly, depressing. Lovino had first gone to live with Antonio in 1503. The world was much different back then. It was full of big wooden ships that journeyed to unfamiliar lands, languages and peoples that vanished into the shadows of history, easily curable diseases that took countless lives, religions and values and mores that held no proper place in societies five hundred years later. Antonio and Lovino had watched it all change, had been a part of that change. They had done it together, just as Roderich and Elizabeta had. Some bonds cannot be tested by the weight of time.

Despite all those years spent together, Lovino and Antonio remained more or less unchanged. Lovino never stopped pretending to be tougher and far meaner than he actually was, and Antonio never stopped smiling in the sunlight and talking about tomatoes. Things were different for nations. There was no rush to change.

Years and years and years spent together, however, do not prevent couples from arguing, no matter how well they’d normally get along. The air in the room was so static charged that electricity seemed to crackle between Antonio and Lovino. They glared at each other, Antonio with his arms crossed, Lovino with one finger pointing at Antonio’s face.

“Take it back, you son of a gigolo.”

“Never.” Antonio’s eyes narrowed. “I meant it.”

“You wound me, Tonio. What the hell kind of a thing to say is that, huh?”

“It’s true, Lovi. You can choose to accept it, or not. I don’t care. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.”

“It’s not true and you fucking know it.”

“You’re in denial, Lovi. I think we both know that I’m right, so why don’t you just admit to it,  
hm?”

“There’s no fucking way I’m admitting to liking your fucking turtle, goddamnit. It’s not true.”

They glared at each other, eyes locked. This was a battle of wits. They had been at it for about half an hour already. The whole thing had started because Antonio had asked Lovino to feed the turtle while he was showering. Lovino had claimed he hated the turtle, but he probably intended to feed her anyway. Antonio didn’t figure that out, though, and had stubbornly insisted Lovino was making it all up. The situation had only fallen apart from there.

“You’re lying to yourself,” Antonio said. “I know how much you love her.”

“Oh, do you? So you’re some sort of psychic mind reader, are you?” Lovino smiled brightly, raising his eyebrows and making his eyes wide. His voice jumped into a higher octave. “Oh, look at me, I’m Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo. I like turtles and sunshine and taking siestas when I should be working because I’m a lazy son of a bitch. I have a lisp but I insist it’s part of my stupid accent. Lovino is _so_ cute, it just makes me want to annoy him every day, all the time. Blegghhhh!” His face fell again into his usual scowl.

Antonio mimicked his expression, placing his hands on his hips and furrowing his brow. His voice became gruff and low. “Oh yeah? Well I’m Lovino fucking Vargas. I think I can hide from my emotions by being an assjacket to everyone, even though I’m really a big softie who just _loves_ Antonio’s turtle. Hur dur dur, hey, potato-smelling crotchface, stop-a despoiling my little brother, eh?”

Lovino gave him an even look. “Potato-smelling crotchface. I like that. I’m gonna use that.”

They held eye contact for a few moments, neither one budging an inch. Then, Antonio’s mouth began to twitch, and Lovino’s eyebrows drew up, and he sighed greatly as Antonio burst into laughter.

“Oh my God,” Lovino muttered under his breath.

"Lovino!”

“What.”

“I know you love my turtle.”

“Oh my God. _Fine, okay?_ _Fine_.”

And that was it. The argument was settled. Antonio placed a kiss on Lovino’s cheek and bounced away, off to take his shower thirty minutes late. As he went, he called over his shoulder, “And I know you’re going to feed her while I shower! And after that, I want to make this argument up to you!”

He wiggled his eyebrows and Lovino sighed again. “Get out of here, bastard,” he said, his face in his hands. “I’ll feed your dumb turtle, okay?”

“I knew I could count on you! Thanks, Lovi!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

The white bathroom tiles were cool against Antonio’s bare feed. He turned on the shower and removed his shirt, tossing it to the ground. He placed himself in front of the mirror, hands on his hips. His eyes were locked on their reflection. His mouth was a hard, straight line, slowly disappearing behind silver mist as the mirror fogged up. He drew back the curtain and stepped into the shower, humming to himself lowly.

 He had not been standing under the hot water for long when Lovino wandered into the bathroom. He lifted himself up and sat on the sink counter, swinging his legs back and forth.

“Hey… You… I’m… I’m sorry I said I don’t like your damn turtle,” he said.

“Oh, that’s okay, Lovi! I don’t think I was really mad at you.”

They were both quiet. Antonio heard Lovino’s phone buzz every so often. He must have been texting someone.

“My brother wants us to visit,” Lovino said suddenly.

“Oh, really? When?”

“Today. I told him fine. You don’t have to come.”

"I’d love to go, but I think I need to be at my place.”

“Oh, shit. Is the bill-” Lovino swallowed. “Is that today?”

“Yes.”

Lovino chuckled. “So that’s why you’ve-a been so irritable lately, huh? I didn’t know it was today.”

“Mm.”

They were silent. The only sound was the water of the shower pounding against the tiles. Antonio’s pulse quickened. He wanted that bill to pass with all of his heart. It was the source of great controversy in his country, but the results of congress’ vote would be announced that day. He would be a pioneer in Europe if this bill passed. Every night, he prayed for it. This was rather ironic, seeing as the Catholic Church opposed the bill so strongly. Antonio was through with toxic Christianity, though. He had gotten over that centuries ago. All he wanted was this bill to pass.

“I’ll tell you what,” Antonio said. “You go ahead to Feliciano’s house. I’ll swing by later, okay?”

“Don’t you want me to be here with you?”

Antonio smiled ruefully, but Lovino couldn’t see it through the shower curtain. He turned off the water and shook his hair out like a dog before stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist. Lovino’s eyes travelled over his body appreciatively, taking in his water-soaked tan skin from head to toe. Antonio placed his hands on the counter on either side of Lovino, trapping him in place. They kissed, tongues grazing. Antonio pulled back.

“You go on ahead, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to worry about it all day. Go have a good time with your brother.”

 Lovino looked uncertain, but he nodded. His hair was damp from the foggy air, and his amber eyes met Antonio’s fearlessly, fierce and dark and deep as always. “Okay. But I want the news as soon as you get it, okay, bastard?”

Antonio smiled. “I promise.” Their lips met again, parting to allow their tongues to brush. Antonio placed a hand on the back of Lovino’s head and pulled him closer, groaning. He wanted him so badly, wanted his body, wanted the touch of his hand, wanted the feel of his tongue. There was no sound but their heavy breaths against each other. Lovino was in charge. Antonio would only do what Lovino allowed, what Lovino wanted. He was slave to Lovino’s will, Lovino’s desire.

Their argument twenty minutes prior and their shared anxiety only served to heat their passion. Antonio’s hands slid down to grasp Lovino’s ass, pulling his body towards him. Lovino’s arms wrapped around his neck, their mouths still pressed together hotly. The humid bathroom was becoming super-heated, the mirror opaque with silver steam. Antonio wanted to make up for their fight, no, _needed_ to, needed to reassure Lovino that he still loved him, still wanted him. It was a dumb fight, anyway. Lovino had to know that. He whined against Lovino’s mouth. His knees were going weak. 

“Okay,” Lovino gasped. Antonio drew away from his mouth to let him speak, wandering to his jaw and cheek and ear, drawing high-pitched little breaths from his lover in response. “Here’s the thing, bastard. You’re going to suck my dick.”

“Yes, yes,” Antonio agreed immediately. “Please.” He groaned into Lovino’s hot skin and sunk to his knees. “Please.”

Antonio undid Lovino’s belt and zipper and placed his hands on his hip bones. Lovino hissed as Antonio took him in his mouth, slowly dragging his tongue along the length. His fingers gripped the counter tightly. Antonio ran Lovino’s cock through his mouth over and over, fingers pressing into his skin just soft enough for it not to hurt. He lived to serve, pulling gasps and sighs and tiny moans from Lovino’s mouth with every bob of his head, every flick of his tongue against Lovino’s cock. Lovino’s hands flew to the back of Antonio’s head, and he buried his fingers in his hair. His chin tilted back, eyes shut and teeth grit.

With every tug from Antonio’s mouth, Lovino tensed, clutching his lover’s bare shoulders. Where his fingers connected with skin, heat spread through Antonio’s body, and he was acutely aware of the hitch in Lovino’s breathing, the rising pitch of Lovino’s voice as Italian curses spilled out of his mouth. They were wrapped in golden passion, joined together perfectly. Lovino hunched over, holding Antonio’s head close to his stomach as he came, moaning softly into dark curls. Antonio’s hands slid up Lovino’s ribs, mouth releasing his throbbing cock. He tilted his head up to rest his nose against Lovino’s.

Lovino heaved a great sigh and pressed his lips to Antonio’s, kissing the salt from them. Antonio could not yet stand, too overwhelmed with his love for Lovino. Lovino slid off the counter, pulling up and redoing his pants, and danced Antonio backwards a few steps. He sunk to his knees in front of him, hands darting to pull the towel around Antonio’s waist away.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice thick and heavy against the corner Antonio’s mouth. “Tell me.”

Antonio suppressed a whine as Lovino’s mouth traced down his neck. He placed his hands shakily on his lover’s shoulders, separating their bodies.

“ _Dios mío, te quiero,”_ he sighed. “I want you so bad it hurts, Lovi. But, please. I want to wait. I want to wait to celebrate.”

“You can’t go twice in one day? We can celebrate later. Now, let me have you. We might not have cause to celebrate later.”

Antonio’s stomach sank. It was true. They might not receive good news later. Still, he wanted to remain optimistic. He wanted to believe that the bill would be passed. He wanted Lovino, nothing more.

“You’re right,” he conceded. He pressed hard on Lovino’s shoulders, forcing him to sink down. “I just want it to be special. But, please. Now, too. Please. _Te amo_.”

“ _Ti amo anch’io_.”

Lovino’s mouth closed around him, and he gasped and bit his lip.                     

 

When they had finished up in the bathroom, they cleaned themselves up together, and Lovino had left for Feliciano’s house. Antonio was too nervous to go down to watch the parliament vote, so he took to pacing through the house, travelling every room at least six times before realizing what he was doing. For a while, he tried to play guitar, but found his fingers could not stay in place steadily enough for him to pick out any tunes. Time seemed to be frozen in amber. He knew his cell phone would ring any minute with news from his Boss. He was so close to making history. So close to getting the only thing in the world he wanted.

The bill would be passed, surely. It had to be. Realistically, it could go either way. For as much as the church was against it, it stood for something beautiful, something pure, something all Christians should want. It was a good thing, the bill. But some people are misguided. Antonio bent his head and whispered a long, rambling prayer, begging for courage and for strength and for good luck. His hands shook as he ended the prayer and crossed himself.

The radio silence was killing him, but he could not bear to turn on the television or leave the house. He was too afraid for what he would see. His mind drifted to Lovino. He was probably having fun with his brother and refusing to admit how much he loved Feliciano. Oh God, Lovino’s reaction if the bill failed would be even more heartbreaking than the legislative loss itself. Antonio’s breath hitched, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He blinked them away, crossing himself again and walking swiftly from the room, setting out to pace the house once more.

After hours of silence, his phone buzzed, and his heart stopped. With shaking hands, he flipped it open and read the text message. A twinge of disappointment shot through him.

 

**< 3LOVI<3: any news?**

Antonio sighed. He had never been so unhappy to see a text from Lovino in his life. Just as he was typing a response, his phone began to ring. He checked the name; it was his Boss. For the second time in one minute, he threatened to send himself into cardiac arrest. He accepted the call and practically screamed into the phone, “Hello? What happened?”

His Boss announced the results. Antonio began to cry.

 

He nearly fell out of the car when he pulled up to Feliciano’s house. He ran to the front door, and didn’t even knock, just burst through. Feliciano and Roderich turned their heads to look at him.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting! Men can now marry each other!” Antonio cried.

“Ehhh? Congratulations!” Feliciano’s eyes sparkled, a huge grin spreading across his face.

“Is that so? And do you have any plans to marry?” Roderich asked, pausing the song he was playing on the piano.

Antonio’s eyes went wide. This was it. This was what he had been waiting for. This was what he had been scheming and planning and praying for for years. Now that the moment was there, he was not sure if he was ready. It was too surreal, too perfect. He suddenly felt nervous. The room was too hot. He needed to sit down. His tongue was heavy and dry. No, he had to do it. He wanted to do this.

He turned around to Lovino, who was nonchalantly chewing on a piece of pizza. He wasn’t looking at Antonio. Antonio took a deep breath, shooing away the butterflies in his stomach. He wanted to do this. He wanted to do this. He wanted to do this so bad it hurt. When he spoke, his voice was cracked with nerves and a little too high, but it did not fail him.

“Hey… Lovi… umm…”

Lovino didn’t turn around, but he stopped Antonio’s stuttering with a grunt of, “Minimum three free meals and a nap with pasta.”

Antonio’s face was on fire. Lovino had not given him a confirmation, but a set of guidelines for their marriage. He had not accepted; Antonio had not asked. They didn’t need to. They had talked about it one hundreds over and then one hundred times again. As long as Antonio never left Lovino, Lovino would never leave Antonio. He need not have asked him for his hand in marriage. It was a no-brainer. Of course Lovino would marry him.

Then the world was a whirl of every color as he enveloped Lovino in his arms, swinging him around and around, tears streaming down his face. They were both laughing, and crying, and holding onto each other for dear life, because this was real, this was here, they were finally, finally, able to get married. Antonio’s heart had never felt lighter, and the world had never been so bright and so beautiful.

Lovino pressed his lips to Antonio’s, unabashed that his brother and Roderich were looking on. Antonio melted into Lovino, and everything else faded away, until all that was left was Antonio and Lovino, Lovino and Antonio, and they were together, and they were getting married. There was nothing in the world that could bring them down to earth, nothing to clip their wings, for nothing in the world could keep them apart, nothing in the world could prevent them from being together forever.

Their lips drew apart and the fireworks died away. Antonio pressed Lovino to his chest, and he wished that there was a way for them to be closer. They held each other and sobbed, too happy to say anything, too emotional to try. The world had changed so much in five hundred years. It had become more beautiful.  

Feliciano was clapping, his arms moving so fast they were simply a blur of blue. “ _Complimenti! Complimenti!_ I’m so happy I could cry!” And then he did cry, and he ran over and drew Antonio and Lovino into his arms. Lovino didn’t even protest. He hugged his brother back, and hugged Antonio, and they were one big weepy mess.

“Congratulations,” Roderich said, reserved, but not unhappy. He flipped through his music, searching for something appropriate to play.

“What is all this about congratulations?” Ludwig asked as he entered the room.

“Lovino…! And…! Antonio…! Are…! Getting…! Married…!” Feliciano sniffed, detaching himself from the newly engaged couple and flinging himself instead into Ludwig’s arms. “I’m so happy for them!” He sobbed into the German’s jacket, and received an awkward pat to the back in return.

“Ah. Well. Congratulations,” Ludwig said, smiling at Antonio and Lovino. “You bring each other much joy. The law passed, then?”

“ _Si,_ ” Antonio sobbed, nodding rapidly. “ _Si.”_ His tears turned to joy, and he was swinging Lovino around again, howling between peals of laughter, _“¡Si! ¡Si! ¡Si!"_

“ _Herzlichen Glückwunsch.”_

_"¡Grasias!”_

Feliciano broke out bottles of alcohol and passed them around, and before they knew it, Gilbert and Elizabeta had showed up with a message from Francis apologizing for not being able to come. They joined in the impromptu celebration, just as overjoyed for the happy couple as Feliciano. The afternoon blurred into a night full of laughter and joyous tears and dancing and singing. Lovino and Feliciano were the most inebriated, followed closely by Gilbert, who sidled away from Roderich and Elizabeta at one point and threw his arm around Antonio’s shoulders.

“Listen,” he said, careening a little too close to his friend’s face. “I want to be the best man. Don’t let Francis do it, he’ll just end up groping the groom the night before the wedding. And we’re doing your bachelor party at my place, you hear? No exceptions, loser. You’re going to be so drunk you won’t be able to find your pants and you’ll wake up the next day handcuffed to a hot pink fire hydrant.”

Antonio laughed and hugged his drunk friend. “I guess since you got to me first you can be the best man. Don’t tell Francis I said that yet. I’m kinda hoping you’re too drunk to remember it in the morning. I’m not ready to make those kind of choices yet!”

Gilbert laughed, and turned to join in a loud chorus with the Vargas brothers, successfully drowning out Ludwig’s orders for them to get off the table and put on some pants. Antonio threw his head back and screamed in laughter. This day was real. He had everything he had ever wanted. He clasped his hands and threw a wild prayer up to God, and it sounded an awful lot like the chorus to Lovino’s song.

Once Lovino and Feliciano had both fallen asleep, passed out with their heads pressed together, a guitar and an empty bottle between the two of them, Antonio, the universal designated driver, decided it was time to leave. He thanked everyone profusely, Lovino slung over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and returned to his car, tears still stinging at his eyes.

Lovino came around when they were nearing their house. His head swiveled to Antonio’s general direction, eyes open in squints.

"Where the hell…?”

“We’re almost home, sweetheart,” Antonio smiled. “You and Feliciano got drunk at the party.”

"Party?”

“How drunk are you? We got engaged, Lovi.”

Lovino’s eyes opened a little wider, inebriated shock playing across his flushed face. “What? Shit. Really? How drunk _am_ I? You proposed? I said _yes_?”

Antonio laughed and pulled into their driveway. “Yes, you did. Oh God, you did, Lovino. We’re getting married. We’re finally getting married. You’ll remember tomorrow. But now, let’s get you to bed.”

Antonio practically carried Lovino inside. He brought him straight to their room and tucked him into bed. As he was pulling up the blankets around him, about to go and get ready for bed himself, Lovino began to look anxious, his unfocused eyes opening again.

“Tonio… Tonio… Do you think Grandpa Rome will come to our wedding?”

Antonio smiled kindly. Lovino’s grandfather had been dead for many years. The world seemed to be doing a good job of keeping this form the Vargas brothers, though. They were both in vehement denial. Lovino still believed his grandfather lived. Antonio hadn’t the heart to break the news to him gently. “I’m sure he will, Lovi. Now, go to sleep.”

“’Kay.”

Lovino was snoring when Antonio returned. He climbed into bed next to him and smoothed back his fiancé’s bangs. For the first time in the five hundred years they had known each other, Antonio and Lovino were sleeping next to each other as fiancés, as two people truly intended for each other. It was a day out of a dream. It was perfect. It was the most special day of Antonio’s entire life up to that point.

He lulled himself to sleep that night with thoughts of weddings. Handsome grooms in tuxes, weeping mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters, triple-tiered cakes topped with tacky plastic figures, champagne-tinted kisses stolen on the dancefloor, a bright sun shining over the newly wedded couple… He was going to marry Lovino. He was going to have the only thing he ever wanted. The world was so sweet and perfect sometimes. It truly was a beautiful place.

 

_Take my hand_

_Take my whole life too_

_For I can’t help falling in love with you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from: Coming Home by fairytalesque (http://fairytalesques.tumblr.com/)
> 
> In honour of the June 26th Supreme Court ruling. Ten years behind Spain, but at least we're doing something right.


	8. Now Don't You Worry, I Never Left You

“Hey.”

Silence.

“Hey. Hey, Lovi.”

Silence.

“Hey, Lovi.”

A strained sigh. “What.”

“I love you from my head-”

“Don’t fucking say it.”

“-To-ma-toes!”

“Oh my God.”

Antonio burst into a fit of giggles, collapsing into Lovino’s shoulder. Lovino angrily picked up the wine bottle from the coffee table and took a long swig, his eyebrows twitching. He placed the bottle back down on the table, and glanced over at Antonio, a look of stifled pain on his face.

“Hey, Toni.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I cannoli be happy when I’m with you.”

Antonio howled with laughter and collapsed into the couch, pressing his face into a pillow. Lovino took another long sip from the wine bottle to wash the taste of the bad pun out of his mouth. It was a lazy day. Neither had deigned to leave the bed until hunger drove them into the kitchen, and the shower had seemed too far away after that, so they settled onto the couch with a bottle of wine and some terrible Hollywood movies dubbed over badly in Italian. It had been four hours, and they still had not moved.

“Look! His voice is still going, but he’s not even talking anymore!” Lovino laughed, pointing at the television screen.

Antonio had long given up on the movies. He had something much, much more enjoyable to look at. Lovino found the movies delightfully painful, seeming to enjoy and look forward to how awful they could get before becoming so offended he would angrily turn the television off, only to flick it back on again whenever he felt the room was too quiet. While Lovino watched (shouted at, more like) the movies, Antonio watched Lovino, smiling dopily over at his gorgeous Italian fiancé.

There was nothing wrong with doing nothing that day. Antonio and Lovino led busy lives, and when they weren’t out working, they were dealing with the stresses of life as a country. It was not as often as they would have liked that they were able to go out and spend some quality recreational time together. Sometimes, however, it was simply best to stay in bed for hours, kissing and giggling and telling stories until Lovino demanded a late breakfast at noon. Besides, going out didn’t always end up perfectly; they had recently learned that, despite his excitement over finally going sailing, Antonio did not fare well on boats, becoming morose and drifting deeply into stoic remembrance, and Lovino had a bad habit of running into his mob bosses whenever they spent a night out at an upscale restaurant in Italy, promptly causing him to ask for the check in a strangled, high-pitched voice.

Antonio felt as if he were melting into Lovino, wrapping himself in his scent and breathing deeply into his neck. Lovino squirmed, but did not pay any more heed than that to Antonio, busy fumbling for the remote and cursing in pure Italian.

Around the house, the two men spoke a strange pidgin mixture of Italian and Spanish. Antonio spoke mostly in Spanish, replacing a few words that were easier with their Italian counterparts, and Lovino spoke mostly in Italian, whose curse words he found were much more useful and satisfying. Being fluent in both languages, they had no trouble communicating in two entirely separate tongues in the same conversation, although it had the tendency to leave those of lesser linguistic tact in the dust. One of the greatest simple pleasures in life was butchering each other’s languages.

Antonio ran a hand through his greasy hair, pulling out a few knots in his curls. He was just considering goading Lovino into a shower together when the Italian turned off the television, his demeanor changing.

“I can read palms, you know,” said Lovino suddenly, turning his head anxiously to look at Antonio.

“Oh yeah?” smiled Antonio.

“Don’t believe me? Give it here,” said Lovino, taking Antonio’s hand in his own and pressing it flat.

“Isn’t it supposed to be the left hand, sweetheart?” asked Antonio, smiling broadly.

“Shut up,” said Lovino. “This is the lesser-known Italian style of reading palms. I know what I’m doing.”

Antonio laughed. “I’ll trust you, then.”

Lovino grunted and stared intently at Antonio’s palm, tracing the lines etched deep into his calloused hands. He ran his fingers across the center, around the mound of his thumb, gently following the lines and curves of Antonio’s hand. Suddenly, he gasped, looking up at Antonio intently with a serious face.

“What is it?” asked Antonio, his eyes wide. This was too good.

“Well, according to the way your love line crosses with your life line here… it says… that I’m hungry, bastard. Go make-a me some dinner, damn it.”

Antonio deflated, his mouth slightly open and his eyes squinted in bemusement. “Oh, Lovino. You are not cute at all.” He stood up nonetheless, adjusting his shirt. Lovino spread his hands out behind him on the couch and crossed his legs, watching Antonio.

“Shut up, I’m adorable,” said Lovino. He leaned forward and slapped Antonio on the ass to get him moving. “Chop chop!”

“ _¡Ay!_ Watch it,” yelped Antonio. “You better be careful, Lovino. They say most deaths happen in and around the kitchen.”

“Are you threatening me, bastard?”

“I wouldn’t call it threatening exactly,” said Antonio with a grin. “I’m just giving you a fair warning. It really isn’t very wise to trust the same person you abuse to make all your meals for you.”

“Bah, whatever,” scoffed Lovino. “You couldn’t do it if you wanted to.”

Antonio looked down at Lovino, his eyes very wide and serious. “I could. You never know.”

“Ten euros says you’re full of shit.”

“I don’t want your money, Lovino,” said Antonio, pulling his fiancé to his feet and wrapping his arms around his waist. He placed a kiss on Lovino’s lips. “I want something much, much more valuable.”

“And what would that be, bastard?”

“Just you, _mi corazón._ Always.” He kissed Lovino again, tracing his tongue along Lovino’s bottom lip. Lovino sighed into Antonio’s mouth, throwing his arms around his fiancé’s neck. Their mouths drew apart, and Lovino rested his head on Antonio’s shoulder, breathing deeply.

“You’re so cheesy,” he murmured, his breath hot on Antonio’s neck. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I can’t help it,” sighed Antonio, rocking on his heels. “You just draw it out of me.”

“Oh, so now it’s _my_ fault,” said Lovino.

Antonio just laughed, shaking his head. He placed a kiss to the crown of Lovino’s head and stroked his thumb over the back of his hair, humming softly to himself a song he had heard on Alfred’s radio earlier that week. Lovino was silent, his breathing steady, eyes closed as Antonio held him.

“What are you humming?” he asked. His voice was far away and drowsy. Antonio’s heart swelled with a burning heat. Lovino could be so precious and innocent sometimes, Antonio couldn’t help but want to protect him with his entire being. He squeezed his arms tighter, pressing Lovino closer into his chest, melting into his warmth.

“Just something I heard earlier today,” he said softly. “It’s a song from America. Let me see if I can remember the words… 

“ _Take my hand_

_Take my whole life, too_

_For I can’t help falling in love with you_

_For I can’t help falling in love with you…”_

Antonio stopped singing, gazing down at Lovino lovingly. The younger man had his eyes closed, a tiny smile on his lips. Antonio wanted to do this forever, to just hold Lovino forever and ever and let the world pass them by, to melt into him and hide him from all pain and danger and worry, to ignore everything but his glowing, aching, hopeless love for Lovino Vargas. His heart wailed and quivered in his chest, heat spreading from his head to his toes.

“You’re so dumb and romantic, it’s disgusting,” grumbled Lovino. “Why can’t you be like a normal person and just buy me a bunch of nice stuff, huh?”

“I already do that too, sweetheart. But how can I keep from expressing my love in other ways too?  I live for you.” He kissed Lovino’s forehead. “I breathe for you.” His nose. “I yearn for you.” The corner of his mouth. “You are my sun, and my moon, and my stars.” Finally, his lips, deep and passionate and slow, drinking in Lovino’s taste and scent and feel. Fireworks sparked and sizzled in his head and his heart, and his knees grew weak. After all this time, and he still could barely handle it when he was able to have Lovino fully and wholly with his mouth, wrapped in his arms. He drew back to gasp for air, and Lovino laid his head again on Antonio’s shoulder, shaking slightly.

“You’re giving me cavities from all of this,” moaned Lovino, but he did not unwrap his arms from around Antonio’s neck, or lift his head from Antonio’s shoulder. He didn’t even open his eyes, content to just lie there for a bit, splayed onto Antonio, more leaning on him than standing on his own. “All I wanted was dinner, damn it.”

Antonio laughed. “Ask, and you shall receive, _mi corazón_!” He unwrapped his arms from around Lovino and whirled away, placing one final kiss on Lovino’s lips. “Anything for my little Lovi!”

“Don’t call me that, bastard!”  

“No hitting, Lovino! My little Lovi! Boss’s little tomato!”

“ _Don’t call me that either!_ And don’t call yourself ‘Boss’, it’s creepy!”

“But, sweetheart, you didn’t complain about it the other night,” sang Antonio, tugging on Lovino’s stray curl. The younger man instantly turned bright red, groaning that little _chigi_ sound out of his clenched teeth. He locked up, arms rigidly pressed to his side, eyes huge. He looked as if he was about to explode. Antonio laughed breezily and skipped away before Lovino had the chance to fully react.

               

The door creaked open. Lovino did not look up from his paperwork, but he growled out of the corner of his mouth. Antonio tiptoed over to him, a childlike smile on his face, his hands holding something behind his back.

“Go away,” Lovino said without glancing at Antonio. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, bastard.”

“But Lovi-”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re always distracting me just when I finally-”

Antonio silenced him with a kiss on the lips. He drew back and held out the bouquet of red roses that he had been concealing behind him, offering them as an apology for the interruption. Lovino glanced between them and Antonio, a flustered scowl on his bright red face.

“What the- What are those-?”

“I picked them up at the store when I was getting groceries!”

“What kind of store is open at midnight? And why were you getting groceries then?”

Antonio laughed and jerked his hand insistently, offering the roses again. Lovino snatched them from his hand and glared at them, clearly trying not to give in to Antonio’s dumb romantic stunt. Antonio leaned over his shoulder, eyes darting over the paperwork. It was all in Italian, and it looked awfully technical and dry.

“What are you working on, sweetheart?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s just-a grunt work. I’ve got to get back to farming soon, I guess.” Lovino rubbed his face with his hands, and it struck Antonio how tired he looked. Antonio gently took the sheet of paper from Lovino’s hands and placed it back down on the table.

“Lovi, you look exhausted. Maybe you should go to bed?”

Lovino shook his head, gritting his teeth. “No, I’ve got to work. Stop distracting me, bastard, huh?”

Antonio smiled. “You work so hard now. I can’t believe my little tomato grew up to be such a hard worker! You never used to do anything when you were younger. Now you work all the time, I can hardly believe you’re the same person!”

Lovino shrugged, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I’ve come to realize that I’ve got to work hard if I ever want to be able to stand with my little brother. He’s got all the industry and trade, and all I’ve got are farms. If I don’t work hard, I’ll never be able to keep up. It’s stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid, Lovino. I think you make a great tomato farmer!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, huh?”

Antonio laughed and ruffled his hair. “Don’t stay up too late, sweetheart. Do you want me to wait up for you?”

Lovino shook his head. The bags under his eyes made his face look much older than he was. Antonio recalled vague memory of Grandpa Rome, but the scene surrounding the great man was hazy at best. It had been a long time since Antonio had recalled any personal memories with the great Roman Empire. He studied Lovino. His face morphed back into his own, tired and scowling and perfectly beautiful.

“It’s funny, Lovi. You looked just like your grandpa for a second,” Antonio said.

Lovino’s eyes widened. Shock? Surprise? Antonio couldn’t quite tell. “What? My Grandpa? Me?”

“Just for a moment there. I was reminded of some time I spent with him, but I can’t remember where we were or what was happening. It was just the way you looked at me. In this dim light you looked like him. “

“I looked like Grandpa?” Lovino was quiet. Antonio thought he might have been thinking, but he was not entirely sure. He went out on a limb.

“What is it, Lovino?”

Lovino shook his head. “Nothing. It’s dumb.”

“So there is something? Tell me!”

“Forget it, Tonio. It’s stupid.”

“No, I want to know. Please?”

Lovino sighed. “It’s nothing. I was just surprised, because I don’t look anything like Grandpa Rome. He’s so handsome, and confident, and strong, and I’m not. It just… I don’t know. I… ugh…”

Antonio smiled and placed a quick peck on Lovino’s cheek. “I’m happy it made you happy. But you know, I disagree. I think you’re very handsome and confident and strong. Well, maybe more handsome and strong than confident, but you’ve been getting better at that. I love you, you know. I love you so much. Your Grandpa loved you too, but not in the way I do. I hope.” He giggled and kissed Lovino on the cheek again.

Lovino turned away. “If Grandpa loved me so much, why did he leave me, huh? You’re not going to leave me too, are you?”

Leave him? Lovino had hinted at this fear before, but Antonio had been mostly oblivious. It made a lot of sense though, Antonio realized, his stomach twisting. Of course Lovino was so adamant about Antonio promising himself forever. Of course he was overjoyed at the prospect of marriage. Marriage meant Antonio wasn’t going to abandon him. All Lovino had ever learned from people loving him was empty promises and goodbyes. Even Antonio had left him centuries ago, voyaging for months and leaving Lovino back at home all alone.

It dawned on Antonio; Lovino was scared. He was scared he would be abandoned again. He couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone he loved fully, because it would always end with him alone. It all clicked for Antonio then in that moment. He released a slow breath he had been holding.

“Lovino… Will you listen to what I say? And I mean really listen? I’m not leaving you. I’m never going to leave you. I don’t know why your Grandpa left you, but I’m not him, okay? And I’m not going to leave you like he did. He loved you, he did. Please believe me. But sometimes in love we do things that hurt others, and we’re idiots for it. That doesn’t make it okay just because we love them. But just because someone hurt you once doesn’t mean everyone will hurt you again. I know I hurt you before, but I promise you I will never leave you. I’m sorry for all those times I did years ago. I never want to do it again. But I promise you, right here, right now. I will never abandon you, Lovino. Never.”

During Antonio’s speech, Lovino’s head was bowed low over the desk. Tears dripped onto his paperwork with tiny _thwicks_. His shoulders were shaking, but no sound came out of him.

“Lovino?”

He looked up, grimacing, his eyebrows draw together. He flung himself from the chair and into Antonio’s arms, a hiccup escaping his throat. He did not say anything, or wail, or sob. He simply clung to Antonio as hard as he could and cried silently, his shoulders heaving. Antonio rubbed his back, humming a children’s lullaby softly into his ear. Lovino drew in a shaky breath.

“That song. You… you used to sing me that when I was younger,” Lovino said. He hiccupped again and wiped his nose on Antonio’s uniform sleeve. “When I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, I guess I did. I can’t remember the words…” He began to hum again, then began to sing. “ _La la la la_ … something _niño… la la la la la…_ eh, uh, _duérmete… la la… la la…”_ He gave up, shaking his head and chuckling. “I can’t remember anymore. I’ll have to look it up some time.”

Lovino sniffed loudly. “You never knew the words back then, either. You just made up nonsense like a fucking idiot.”

“Mm. I had other things on my mind back then. Bad things. Eh, have I ever apologized for how I was back then? Not just about the whole imperialism thing. The religion, too. All of it. I was so young and dumb… Ah, man…”

“Constantly, bastard.” Lovino reached into the back pocket of his uniform and drew out a rosary. The beads were pink and blue and faded, and the cross was made of translucent chipped ivory. Antonio had not seen it in a very long time. He was surprised Lovino still carried it with him. “It turned out for the best, didn’t it, though?”

He stuffed the rosary back into his back pocket and kissed Antonio softly on the lips. Antonio wiped away a tear from Lovino’s eyes, smiling softly. Ghosts of the past danced around them. They wore feathered hats and laughed boisterously and waved goodbye. They looked like Lovino and Antonio only older and younger and not quite right. They were a mess of brown curls and sharp weapons and battle scars. Antonio bit his lip. He felt a sharp wind cut through his chest.

“Sweetheart… I think it’s time for bed.”

“Do we… do we have to get down on our knees and pray like we used to?”

Antonio was able to recognize the cloudy emotion in Lovino’s eyes. Fear. He feared who Antonio used to be. He feared the ghosts in the room. The ghosts grinned and laughed. Antonio grit his teeth. He was determined to never be that man again. That particular ghost would remain dead forever. Antonio would die to be sure of this.

“Not if you don’t want to, _mi corazón_. That was so long ago. That was when I hurt you because I loved you. I don’t want to do that again.”

“That’s what you told me. ‘ _No más.’_ That’s what you said, idiot. I’m holding you to that.”

“Oh, God, Lovino. Please do.” Antonio gripped Lovino tighter, pulling him to his chest. Lovino’s heart beat steadily in his chest. With every _tha-dump tha-dump_ , the ghosts seemed to become less and less opaque. The more they held each other, the less substantial the ghosts seemed to be. Antonio wished they would go away completely. “Let’s make an agreement. I’ll never abandon you, and you’ll never let me become who I was again.”

“Okay, bastard.” Lovino kissed Antonio on the cheek. And with that, the ghosts wisped away into nothing but the echo of a farewell. The room seemed to brighten ever so slightly, reminding Antonio of how tired he was as he blinked in the light. There were no ghosts of the past in their bed. Under the covers they were safe. “I don’t-a like this conversation. It’s making me depressed. Can we just go to bed?”

“Yes, Lovi. Let’s go to bed.”

In the cover of darkness, tangled in red blankets, Antonio and Lovino clung to each other, and the ghosts of the past were banished from their minds. They fell asleep with their noses a centimeter apart, their breathing steady. With each other, nothing bad could get them. With each other, they would always be safe. There were no ghosts in their bed. There were no more goodbyes to be said. Their past was behind them, their future ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from: Rosa by Keith Harkin


	9. What Can You See On The Horizon

The night was restless. A storm had been threatening to break for two days. Winds bashed into the house with mighty howls, shaking the walls and the floors with every buffeting. The heavens were dark and tense, but no rain fell. It was a Monday night; the wedding was Friday. Lovino had been pacing non-stop for a week, never settling down in one spot for long before jumping up and entertaining his anxieties through his feet. Antonio had barely noticed. He had been trying to stay busy in order to ward off the butterflies that swarmed his stomach every time his mind was idle. Something big was about to happen. The world was frozen on its haunches, waiting, tensed to spring.

Antonio was sitting upright in bed, his eyes following Lovino as he paced around the room pursued by an anxious cloud. His jaw was set and his hair seemed to stand up on end, like a frightened cat.

“Sweetheart,” Antonio ventured. “You’re not upset, are you?”

When Lovino spoke, his voice was tweaked into the higher register. “What? Me? Upset? No! I’m not upset at all! What makes you think that? You think you’re some sort of people-person now, huh, you son of a bitch? You don’t know anything, shut up. Fuck you. I’m not upset!”

Antonio sighed in relief. “Well, if you say so! Good! I was so worried that you were upset about something!”

Lovino whirled around, his right eye twitching dangerously. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, jerk bastard? I said I’m not upset!”

Antonio laughed. “I believed you, Lovino!”

With a deep, shaky sigh, Lovino closed his eyes, mouthed a count from one to ten, opened his eyes and lifted them in prayer, crossed himself, and then turned to Antonio. “Antonio. _Mio sole_. I’m going to-a be completely honest with you, okay? I’m about to have a freaking panic attack and _you are not helping one bit, assnotch.”_

Antonio rose from the bed and crossed to Lovino, holding out his arms and taking Lovino into them in a warm embrace. “What? Did I do something? What’s wrong, _mi corazón?”_

“Not really you. The damn wedding,” Lovino moaned into Antonio’s shoulder. “If I keep thinking about it I’m going to have a fucking heart attack or something.”

“Our wedding? Why does that make you nervous?”

Lovino stammered, struggling to find the right words. His hands gesticulated feebly as if trying to describe his thoughts, but after a few moments they simply dropped back down to rest against Antonio’s back. He snorted a disgruntled _hrrmph_ and shook his head, wrapping his arms tighter around Antonio.

"Lovino? What can I do to help, hm?” Antonio pressed his lips softly to the shell of Lovino’s ear. “What’s worrying you?”

“I just- I- I’m worried you’re going to change your mind before the wedding and then I’ll have to cancel all the plans and Feliciano will be so upset and I’ll have to have a long confession because I’ve been sleeping with a guy I never married and then what the hell am I supposed to do without you?” A peel a thunder tore through the sky, rattling the house violently. Lovino squeaked and buried his face in Antonio’s neck.

Antonio laughed, his eyebrows raised. “Lovino! I’d never leave you at the altar! Even if I wanted to, I’d be too afraid you’d hunt me down and castrate me with a steak knife for it. I don’t even want to leave you, _mi corazón!_ ”

“I know, I know, but I’m still fucking worried about it, alright? And you’re so happy and jolly and busy, going around like, ‘Oh, look at me, I’m Antonio and I suddenly care about doing everything in the world but Lovino har dee dur har har.’ What the hell is up with that, jackass?”

“Well, I’ve been so nervous! If I don’t stay busy, I’ll get sick!”

A long, roiling thunder snaked through the sky like a dark cloud, ominously heralding the long-awaited rain. The wind roared, but still the clouds did not break. Lovino made a low noise in the back of his throat, only audible to Antonio because he was pressed against him. He stroked Lovino’s hair gently.

“Hey, I’m sorry if it was bothering you, sweetheart. I didn’t know it hurt you. You should have told me sooner! I know a few other ways I could keep busy that wouldn’t involve neglecting you…” He wiggled his eyebrows. Lovino scoffed.

“Ah, shut up. I’m too freaked out for that. If you leave me at the altar, I’m going to punch you in the throat, do you hear me? I won’t marry you if you do that to me!”

“I promise I won’t!” Antonio’s eyes twinkled at Lovino’s angry pout. “Will you listen to me for once, eh? I swore to you that I will never abandon you, and I swear it to you now again, and I will keep swearing it for ever and ever, because it’s true! I will never abandon you, Lovino. Not on our wedding day, not on our honeymoon, not in ten years, or fifty, or a hundred, or five hundred! I’m not leaving you, Lovino! I love you way too much!”

The storm broke. Giant, sharp raindrops pelted the windows like rocks. Thunder clashed as a bolt of blue lightning flashed in the sky. Lovino gripped Antonio’s shirt tightly, a tiny yelp escaping his throat.

“Damn thunder! Why does it have to be so loud, huh?”

Antonio fixed him with a curious stare, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face. “Well, it’s because of tomatoes.”

Lovino scowled at him. “What? Shut up! Not this story again!”

Antonio laughed and rocked on the balls of his feet, swinging Lovino back and forth in his arms. “Lovino! You’re scared of the thunder, so I’m going to tell you why it’s so loud! It’s because of tomatoes! Tomatoes!”

“Ehh! Cut it out, jerkass!”

“Way up in the sky, the Roman goddess Ceres likes to harvest her tomatoes when it rains!”

Lovino placed his hands on either side of Antonio’s head, trying to shove him backwards. “Shut up! I don’t want to hear it!”

“But sometimes, she drops them! Even Roman goddesses make mistakes too!” Antonio, practically bursting with laughter, gripped Lovino’s head in return, struggling to pull him closer. “And her tomatoes are _so big_ that whenever they hit the ground, they make a loud noise!”

“I’m not a little kid! I don’t want to hear your dumb stories, idiot!” He dug his hands into Antonio’s hair, jerking his fiancé’s head backwards. Antonio simply laughed harder and dug his own fingers into Lovino’s hair to pull him in.

“That’s why thunder is so loud, sweetheart! Because of tomatoes!”

"The thunder isn’t tomatoes, idiot! Why are those the only things you ever think about?!” Lovino growled and tried to lurch his head away from Antonio, to no avail. Antonio gained the upper hand and placed a series of kisses along the underside of Lovino’s chin, laughing into his tanned skin. Lovino howled with rage and jerked his head backwards spastically, slapping at Antonio’s head repeatedly.

“Looooviiiinooo! You’re _so cute!_ ” Antonio rubbed his nose against Lovino’s, despite Lovino’s desperate attempts to struggle free of Antonio’s grasp. Lovino threw his head backwards and then forwards again, slamming it into Antonio’s and sending the Spaniard flying backwards to the floor clutching his nose and yowling in pain.

“Don’t touch other people without their permission, creep!” Lovino roared, his face bright red. He was panting raggedly, fists clenched tight.

From the floor, Antonio croaked, “Oh God, I think I’m dying! Lovino, I think you broke my nose. Help… me…”

Lovino’s eyes went wide, and he was suddenly at Antonio’s side, crouching down and grasping his fiancé’s wrists gently. “Oh my God, are you okay? Say something, bastard! Let me see it!”

Antonio glanced up out of the corner of his eyes, his hands clasped around his nose. “Lovino… Oh God, it hurts so much… Lovino… Tell me… Is there a lot of blood?”

He removed his hands and swooped towards Lovino’s face in one fluid motion, catching Lovino in a chaste kiss. Lovino’s face, which had dimmed back to a fairly healthy color once Antonio began his charade, turned bright red again, and his mouth fell open in shock, giving Antonio an opportunity to slick his tongue along Lovino’s lower lip. Lovino pulled away with a gasp, hand flying over his mouth.

“You… you…!” He was shaking and pointing a finger at Antonio, at a loss for words.

The thunder sounded again, but Lovino was too flustered to be scared. He fell backwards onto his ass, still frazzled into spluttering incoherency. Antonio laughed and rose to his feet, grasping Lovino by the hands.

“You’re so cute, Lovino! Look, you’re not even scared of the thunder! Wow, look at you! Your face is so red like a little tomato! You look just like you did when you were a little kid!”

“I’m… I’m going to bed!” Lovino huffed, scrabbling to his feet and ripping his hands from Antonio’s. He did not make it very far before Antonio wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him back.

“Not yet you aren’t! Lovino, you’re so beautiful and adorable and funny and perfect… Will you dance for me?”

Lovino scrunched up his face. “Dance for you? You’re a dirty pervert.”

Antonio waved his hand, laughing. “No, not like that! Although afterwards… No, I meant, come out to the garden with me and dance the tarantella!”

“What- Why would you want me to do a thing like that?”

Antonio shrugged. “I don’t know! But will you please do it? It’ll be so fun!”

Lovino fixed Antonio with a levelling stare, one eyebrow raised. Finally, he nodded, teeth gritted behind closed lips, and he allowed his fiancé to lead him out through the house to the back door. He hesitated upon glancing outside and seeing the heavy raindrops splattering down sharply, transforming the dusty, dry ground to churning mud. The sky lit up with lightning again, quickly followed by thunder, and Lovino screamed and leapt backwards. Antonio simply laughed reassuringly and placed his hand on the small of Lovino’s back, opening the door and ushering him out into the rain.

Lovino was adamant about staying near the house, arguing that it was unsafe to be outside during such a vicious thunderstorm, but Antonio would not budge, herding him farther and farther into the garden and away from the safe dryness of their home. Once they were sufficiently far away, Antonio removed his hands from Lovino and smiled wide.

“Are you ready, Lovino?”

The lightning flashed again. Lovino’s face, lit up pale and ghostly in that split second, was wild, and angry, and untamed, a vindictive spirit of the storm. It lasted only for a second, and back in the rainy dark, it softened into the Lovino Antonio loved – square jaw, high cheekbones, big amber eyes that gleamed under straight eyebrows pulled together in a scowl. He was beautiful, whether in the sun or the rain. Antonio could not stop a smile from spreading on his face. Soon, he would be able to promise himself to Lovino forever. The day was so close he could almost smell it. It smelled like soap and tomatoes and garden dirt and something dark and musky. It smelled like Lovino.

Lovino shook his head and moved himself into the starting position, sliding his feet through the mud and straightening up, chin downturned. Antonio crossed his arms expectantly, grinning. After a few beats of motionless silence, broken only by the shush of the rain on growing tomato plants, Lovino looked back up.

“Well? Aren’t you going to sing, bastard?”

“Sing? You want me to sing?”

"I need to have music to dance to, idiot. You used to-a sing to me when I danced, and it was super annoying, but I can’t just dance this without some music, huh?” Lovino spat this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and Antonio was a particularly stupid child.

Antonio shrugged. “Well, okay! Gosh, what should I sing?”

Lovino shook his head again, looking what Antonio figured was irritated. “I don’t know! Just-a pick something, _idiota!_ ”

Antonio smiled wickedly. “Lovino, what’s the magic word?”

“Please.”

“How do we say please in Spanish, Lovino?”

Lovino’s shoulders fell, a great sigh escaping him. He crossed his arms, leaning heavily on his left foot, one hip popped up. “Are you fucking kidding me? Piss off.”

“Lovino! How do we say please in Spanish?”

Lovino fixed Antonio with a hard stare. Slowly and deliberately, he said, “ _Por favore_.” He had combined his own language with Antonio’s. Antonio’s grin threatened to split his face.

“You know what, Lovino? It’s been five hundred years of you screwing up Spanish, and I don’t think it’s going to stop any time soon. I love you so much.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He moved back into a ready position. “Whenever you’re ready, _por favore_.”

Antonio laughed and shook his head. Then, wishing it was not raining so that he could bring out his guitar, he began to sing.

“ _Buono tomato_

_Buono tomato_

_Buono buono ooh! Tomato!_

_Red on the bottom_

_And green on the top_

_Toma- Toma- Tomato!_

_Hm!”_

Lovino looked surprised at first at the selection Antonio had chosen, but he began to dance regardless, moving through the motions as if he had learned them merely yesterday. Antonio’s heart soared as he watched Lovino dance. It brought back memories, memories of the sun and of Lovino in a tiny maid’s uniform, jerking his arm in undeliberate dancelike waves, angrily muttering under his breath about having to clean and learn Spanish and be left alone all day. Lovino had grown up so much since then, although he still despised cleaning and speaking Spanish (so he claimed, although he was prone to use it just as much as Italian) and being ignored. He twirled around Antonio, and suddenly his own voice rang out, interrupting the song to add in his own lyrics.

“ _Tonio brought some_

_He brought some from America_

_My country’s national treasure_

_How I love tomatoes_

_But_

_This isn’t just for reciting words of love_

_The wine glass in his hand is always twink- twink- and twinkling_

_And when I was an adorable kid back then, when I was ignored, that dick!”_

“Are you calling me a drunk, Lovino?” Antonio laughed as Lovino grasped him by the hands and pulled him backwards in a fast-paced trot, turning the dance into a duet.

"I might be. What’s it to you?

_Buono tomato, buono_

_Tomato buono buono_

_Ooh! Tomato!_

_The Mediterranean Sea too!_

_O sole mio!”_

He placed a quick kiss on Antonio’s cheek and continued singing.

“ _I’m South Italy!”_

The thunder cracked in the sky, and the rain kept tempo as they danced around the garden, making up words to the Delicious Tomato Song whenever they forgot them. By the end of it, once Lovino released Antonio’s hands to end the dance with a flourish, Antonio was nearly doubled-over laughing with bliss. Lightning lit Lovino’s face again, and he didn’t look angry or malevolent, but ecstatic, a beautiful drop of the Italian sun in the dark Spanish storm.

“Quit-a making googly eyes at me, you creep!” Lovino snarled, dropping his arms and shifting his weight so that he no longer stood tensed and posing.

Antonio wiped a laughter-tear from his eye, grinning from ear to ear. “I can’t help it! You’re so handsome, Lovino! It’s hard to believe you used to be this tall!” He held his hand out as an approximation of a child’s height. Lovino scowled.

“So, were you always a pedophile? Or did you only want to-a stick your dick in me once I got older, jackass?”

Antonio considered this for a moment. “You know, Lovino, I don’t know. I can’t really remember. But does it matter? I love you now, and I think that’s all that’s important!”

Lovino looked away, dragging his ruined shoes through the mud. He was sure to pitch a fit about that later. “I love you too, bastard. Even if you make me dance in thunderstorms and sing dumb songs and all you talk about is stupid tomatoes. Which is freaking annoying, by the way.”

Antonio wrapped his arms around Lovino instantly, lifting him clean off the ground and swinging him round and round. “Lovino! I’m just so happy that you love me too! Sometimes it just dawns on me all at once and I realize that I’ve got you and you’ve got me and we’re getting married this Friday and you love me and I love you so much it hurts and you’re so beautiful and kind and adorable and handsome and funny and smart and talented and determined and and and and oh I don’t know and you’re so special, Lovino, you’re so special!”

“Put me down, you idiot!” Lovino yelled, banging his fists against Antonio’s back.

The thunder cracked again. Antonio placed Lovino back on the ground, and the Italian shook his sopping wet bangs from his face, sending sharp water droplets flying everywhere. He buried his fist in Antonio’s wet shirt, see-through from the rain, and pulled him close, mashing their lips together with the delicacy of a freight train.

Antonio hummed into Lovino’s mouth, throwing his arms around his neck. The rain continued to fall all around them, but they seemed to be standing in a dry bubble, a shield of golden light surrounding them as they kissed and melted into each other and all there was was warmth and heat and sunshine and the deeply pervading, spreading, grounding feeling of being _home_.

“Lovino? I can’t wait for Friday,” Antonio murmured against Lovino’s lips. Lovino responded by locking their mouths again and sucking Antonio’s tongue. Antonio’s laugh melted into a moan as Lovino’s hands slipped down to grip his ass.

"Let’s get out of this fucking rain,” he hissed into Antonio’s ear. “My clothes are getting ruined.”

“I guess you’ll just have to take them off,” Antonio replied.

“You think you can just say some fucking smooth-ass words and expect me to get naked and on my back, jackass?”

“What, like it hasn’t worked before?”

Lovino chuckled, hoarse and breathy, and raised his eyebrows in salute, looking Antonio in the eyes. “Fuck me.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Antonio swept Lovino into his arms, ignoring his fiancé’s protestations, and carried him inside out of the blue and gray storm to hide him away until the day broke.

As they gasped and panted and cursed under the blankets, sweat covering their tensed, rain-slicked bodies, the storm finally began to pass. The thunder and lightning wandered further and further away with every passing minute, unseen over the horizon and behind fogged-up bedroom windows. The night settled down, passing from its restlessness into a steady, rocking rhythm that rumbled faintly, far away, hardly the concern of Antonio and Lovino, who were too enraptured with each other to notice the approaching calm. And so, the storm left, and they were too in love to notice.  

_Like a river flows_

_Surely to the sea_

_Darling so it goes_

_Some things are meant to be_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from: Into the West, written by Annie Lennox, Fran Walsh, and Howard Shore  
> Inspired by: http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/spain-x-romano-spamano/images/32091249/title/spamano-photo PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU CAN FIND THE ARTIST SO I CAN GIVE THEM CREDIT Thank you! :)


	10. And I Need You More Than Want You, And I Want You For All Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Leah the Great.

It had been more like a fairy tale than like real life. The ceremony had gone too perfectly, too perfect to be real, too perfect to be something that had happened to Antonio. It was all too perfect. It was all too perfect. It was all too shockingly, dazzlingly, astoundingly real. And it was too perfect to be real, really.

It had not rained in Rome that week, and everything gleamed dull white in the sunlight. It was a beautiful city- it was Lovino’s city. He had insisted that was where they be married, outside at noon, when the sun was at its highest. They had done it just outside the Spanish embassy, close enough for an exception to made for the two nations and it to be considered a Spanish wedding. It had been a bit of a public spectacle, but the road had been completely blocked off, allowing only those invited within the proximity. Nothing but the best for Lovino, after all.

It had been a fairly simple ceremony, attended largely by nations, and it had been over much quicker than anyone seemed to be truly expecting. Neither Lovino nor Antonio cared all too much for pomp and circumstance. The priest’s speech, the vows (littered with too many curse words on Lovino’s behalf, if you asked several of the guests and clergy), and the final kiss all seemed to be over in the blink of an eye, a fairy tale wedding wrapped up into a neat little package. For all the years and years and years the wedding had been gaining momentum, starting on that one awkward day in the garden so many years ago, snowballing with their first kiss outside the Vargas brothers’ house, quiet white mornings spent in bed, dark peaceful nights spent stumbling through the halls, arguments and reconciliations and miscommunications and compromises made through tears, and culminating with Antonio and Lovino being led down the aisle by Gilbert (as Francis had ended up claiming best man, which turned out to be the short end of the deal once Gilbert called dibs on Antonio’s father figure) and Feliciano, respectively, the event itself seemed to sizzle out with quite a small bang in comparison. But it didn’t matter, really; the wedding was only the threshold crossed into another chapter of life.

They were perched on the Spanish Steps, Lovino leaning on the balcony and balancing a champagne glass between his fingers, Antonio standing behind him with his hand resting on the small of his new husband’s back. Husband. The word hardly seemed right, too simple and commonplace for what Lovino was to him. And yet, it was perfect, and wonderful, and just right, and Antonio never wanted to call him anything else.

They were quiet, in awe, not quite believing this was where they were. Feliciano had let slip through alcohol one night that he thought Lovino wanted to be married in Rome not simply because it was his city and he wanted to show his citizens that they should get their heads out of their collective ass and legalize same-sex marriage, but because part of him still hoped that Grandpa Rome would show up. As they watched the guests mingling on the steps, a multicultural mix of all colors and designs and styles, Antonio could have sworn he caught sight of a curly head of hair that was almost the exact same shade as Lovino’s.

Lovino must have seen him too. He gripped the banister and leaned forward slightly, a small gasp escaping his lips. “Is that…?”

Antonio glanced over at him. “Sweetheart?”

Lovino shook his head. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

When they looked again, whoever they thought the saw was gone, replaced instead by Sadiq arguing with Heracles and emphatically waving his arms to demonstrate his point. The Greek looked a strange concoction of annoyed and disinterested, and slinked off to go speak with Kiku. The Japanese man took this as a good opportunity to shake himself from Feliciano’s clutches, prompting Lovino’s brother to latch onto Ludwig instead, planting a big kiss on the German’s lips. Lovino’s hands nearly crumbled the stone banister in his hands. Antonio placed a comforting kiss on his husband’s cheek, rubbing his back softly.

“Just for once, maybe it doesn’t matter so much, _mi corazón._ ”

Lovino grumbled something that sounded like, “Yeah, maybe” and took a sip from his glass, eyebrow twitching. “I’ll murder the dastardly beefcake when I’m less overjoyed.”

Antonio turned and grinned at Lovino and opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by Gilbert, who came bounding up the steps, Roderich on one arm, and Elizabeta on the other.

“Alright, congratulations on your marriage and all that, you magnificent Spanish god,” Gilbert said. “As your father, I demand exactly one fourth of the presents, understand?”

“One fourth?” said Roderich, one eyebrow shooting up.

“Isn’t that a little high, Gil?” Elizabeta added. “I’d at least go for a sixth or something. Antonio, Lovino, congratulations! _Nagyon sok boldogságot kívánok!_ ”

“Wow, thank you, Elizabeta,” Antonio said. “And thank you for coming, all three of you! I’m happy to see you all so happy with each other! It’s so sweet! And to think, I never really thought any of you would end up with a partner, because Roderich is so stuffy and he’s been married and divorced so many times and Gilbert’s completely useless when it comes to romance and I always thought Elizabeta would end up just scaring off a bunch of girls until she gave up, but look! You’ve all got each other! It’s so touching!”

Lovino tugged on Antonio’s arm. “Jesus Christ, bastard, even I’m impressed by how rude that was.”

“That was rude?” Antonio scratched his head, eyebrows tilted in and up. “Gosh, sorry! I’m so sorry! I hope I didn’t offend you! My bad! Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“I’ll give you a pass because it’s your wedding day, loser,” Gilbert said, pointing his finger at Antonio and grinning wickedly. “But tomorrow I’m going to kick your ass, okay?”

“I probably deserve it, don’t I,” Antonio said, eyes squinted in bemusement at his own social ineptitude. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, Antonio,” Roderich sighed. “If one thing in the world can be said about you, it’s that you’re honest. Please excuse me.” He slinked out of Gilbert’s grasp and headed back down the steps.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just trying to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible,” Elizabeta said. “He doesn’t do weddings.”

"Sissy!” Gilbert called down the steps after Roderich. Roderich responded with a rather rude and undignified hand gesture. “Oh look, he’s already halfway there!” Gilbert threw his head back and cackled.

“So, what’re you two planning for the honeymoon?” Elizabeta asked, leering at the newly wedded couple in a way that made Antonio’s skin crawl.

“Th-the honeymoon? Well…”

“Not planned yet,” Lovino interjected. “Although, we’re opened to suggestions, especially from a beautiful lady such as yourself. You must-a have a few good ideas in mind, no?”

“Are you flirting with someone else at our wedding, Lovino?”

"I give this marriage five years tops,” Gilbert declared.

“Give us the benefit of the doubt, Gil,” Antonio protested. “At _least_ five years. Five years minimum.”

“Fine,” Gilbert said. “Five years minimum, ten years tops.”

“I need another drink,” Lovino said, and he wandered off down the steps to find something stronger than champagne.

“Ah, but you wouldn’t abandon your husband on your wedding day, would you?” Francis seemed to appear from nowhere to cut Lovino off, a small throng of beautiful women clinging to him. Lovino groaned, tapping his glass against his forehead.

“Great, just what I needed, the missing piece of the Bad Touch Trio to assault my husband only half an hour after I finally managed to get a fucking ring on him.”

“Sticks and stones, _mon ami_ ,” Francis sang. “The dog may bark, but he is reluctant to bite, no?”

“Did you really just say that to my face, you wine-soaked baguette? Square up, fuckhead!”

Antonio laughed and held Lovino back, patting him on the head, none of which helped to quell the leers from Francis and Elizabeta. Suddenly aching for a quiet moment, he excused Lovino and himself and herded his husband away, back down the steps and through the throng, past Eastern Europeans and South Asians and Central Americans, until they stood in front of the Fontana della Baracaccia with their backs to their guests and the wedding reception and anyone who dared interrupt them on their special day.

“I’m so happy right now, Lovino,” Antonio said, taking his husband’s hand in his own. “I’m so happy, and all I can think about is that ring on my finger and about how beautiful you looked when you said, ‘I do’, and about how I want to kiss every single part of your body, and I just can’t stand how happy I am and I feel like it’s all gonna burst out of my ears and my eyes and my nose and my fingernails and I’m gonna explode with happiness because I just love you so much, Lovino, so much!”

Lovino was silent, his expression unreadable. Something sank in the pit of Antonio’s stomach. Was he upset? Bothered? By what? Not by Gilbert and Francis and Elizabeta and Roderich? Was he feeling sick? Was he too hot? Was he drunk? Was he suddenly unhappy with being married to Antonio? Antonio couldn’t figure it out, and he felt the world freeze for a moment, the jovial sounds of the crowd behind him cutting out as the blood pounded in his ears.

After what might have been five hundred more years, Lovino spoke. “That’s a really fucking ugly boat, huh?”

What. “Excuse me?”

“The boat in the fountain. It’s called the ugly boat. And it’s really fucking ugly,” Lovino explained, gesturing to the fountain. “It looks like a piece of garbage.”

“Um?”

Lovino glanced over at him. “I’m just kidding, man. Don’t look so scared, it’s freaking me out! Of course I love you too, bastard. Always have. I’ve never been happier in my entire life than today. I can’t figure out if this is actually happening, or if I’m just-a dreaming and I’m gonna wake up as a little kid again to you pounding on my bedroom door and screaming that it’s time for church. None of this seems real.”

“But, Lovino, it _is_ real. This perfect day, and everything wonderful that’s happened, it’s real.”

Lovino shook his head laughing. “I don’t know, Tonio. These kind of perfect things don’t happen to me.”

“What do you mean, _mi corazón_?”

“I mean, I’m not this lucky. I’m not the kind of guy who gets the most perfect man in the world to fall in love with me and to vow to spend his life with me, and I’m not the kind of guy who even deserves him. I’m not the kind of guy who gets a perfect wedding in my own city before it’s-a even legal, or gets to-a drink champagne and look at a fucking ugly boat behind the silver ring on my finger. I’m not the kind of guy who gets stuck with someone like you, and I’m definitely not the kind of guy who gets the perfect wedding out of it. I’ve never been this lucky. These kind of perfect things just don’t happen to me.”

His voice choked and he looked away. Antonio frowned and placed his hand under Lovino’s chin, tilting his face back towards him. “Lovi, that’s not true. Your life is beautiful. You deserve this. You deserve to be happy.”

“No I don’t,” Lovino said, and he instantly looked as if he regretted saying it. Still, he wore the pain proudly on his chest, tears forming in his eyes.

“Yes you do! How could you say that, Lovino? Of course you deserve to be happy! Everyone deserves to be happy, and you deserve it more than anyone in this entire world! You make me so, so, so, so, so happy, Lovino. So happy I can barely stand it sometimes, and I don’t know what to do with myself, because around you I feel so comfortable and safe and ecstatic that I can’t help but feel like wherever you go is my home. I don’t know if you feel that way about me, but I really hope you do, and I just want you to _know_ how happy you make me, and I want you to be able to feel even a fraction of the joy I feel around you. You make me the happiest man in this entire world, and you deserve to be ten times happier than that!”

Lovino cursed under his breath, shaking his head. “I do,” he said quietly.

“What?” Antonio leaned in, cupping a hand over one ear.

“I do, moron,” Lovino said. “I do feel the same way about you. I just… can’t-a say such sappy things as easily as you.”

“Don’t cry, Lovino! I didn’t mean to make you cry! I’m so sorry! Oh, no. Come here, sweetheart.” Antonio wrapped his arms around Lovino, kissing the tears away as they rolled down his cheeks. “I’m sorry for making you cry.”

“You didn’t make me cry, bastard,” Lovino protested. “I’m crying because I’m so happy.”

Oh. Warmth spread through Antonio’s chest, bursting like fireworks in the sky. “You are?”

“Yes, you idiot! I’ve never been happier in my entire life than when I’m with you. Today has only made you even more disgustingly perfect, and I’m really pissed at you about that, so you’re going to pay for that one later.”

“Oh, God,” Antonio sighed into Lovino’s hair. “Oh, thank God. Oh, I’ll make it up to you however you want me to, _mi corazón._ ”

“ _Mio sole_ ,” Lovino breathed, not even caring that his tears were soaking into Antonio’s tuxedo. “I’ve got a few ideas in mind…”

“ _Fratello!”_

Feliciano ripped Lovino from Antonio’s arms, suffocating him in what might have been the one hundredth hug of the day. Ludwig trailed behind him, a small smile on his face. Lovino hugged his brother back, for once not protesting over the mandatory physical contact that often comes with relatives and special occasions.

“I’m so happy for you, Lovino,” Feliciano sobbed. “I’m so happy you and Big Brother Antonio are finally married!”

“I’m pretty excited about it myself,” Lovino laughed. “ _Fratello_ , thank you.”

“I’m having such a good time and I’m so happy for you and Big Brother Antonio and Ludwig said some really sexy things earlier and I can’t wait to get home and-”

“Potato-eater, I’m willing to forgive you because it’s my wedding day,” interrupted Lovino, looking directly at Ludwig with what can only be described as a death glare. “But if you lay a single finger on my little brother, I’ll send the entire Sicilian mafia to your house in the middle of the night and have them make sure no one ever hears from you again, do you understand me, you potato-smelling crotchface?”

“Didn’t you try to do that during World War Two?”

“No, Feliciano, that was the Resistenza,” Lovino said. “It wasn’t quite the same thing. But I’m serious, kraut-breath. Stay the hell away from my little brother, you dirty German sex freak.”

“I don’t think I will ever understand how to please Italians,” Ludwig said, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Or how to act around them.”

“Oh, it’s not so hard,” Antonio smiled, clapping him on the back. “You just gotta know how to get them to stop talking.”

Ludwig shot Antonio a hopeful glance. “You can do that?”

Antonio laughed. “Of course! It’s easy. See! Lovino?”

“What the hell do you want, bastard?”

“ _Ti amo_.”

Lovino turned scarlet and looked away. “ _Te amo anch’io_ ,” he grumbled. He would never quite learn to speak one language in a single sentence.

 

The reception lasted hours on the Spanish Steps, until the sun painted the sky gold as it rested on the rooves of the buildings. Rome took on a new sort of beauty in the sunset, a fierce, ancient beauty that reminded Antonio of Lovino. The guests dispersed, one by one. Emma bid farewell to the couple, encouraging them to honeymoon at her place, and headed back to her hotel. Francis went home with Arthur, having long given up his pursuit of Matthew, who instead found himself in the arms of Ivan, much to Alfred’s horror. They had bonded over hockey, apparently. Gilbert slinked back to the hotel room he shared with Roderich and Elizabeta, promising Antonio over his shoulder a thorough ass-whooping the next day. Feliciano and Ludwig accompanied Kiku, Heracles, and a particularly territorial Sadiq back to a separate hotel, perhaps as a way to assure Lovino nothing unchaste was to happen between the two European members of the former Axis Powers. And then, every nation was gone but Antonio and Lovino, and the road was opened back up, and Rome no longer belonged to the nations, but to her citizens.

Antonio and Lovino wound up in front of the fountain again, hands clasped together between them. Antonio found himself stroking the silver ring on Lovino’s finger. It was the symbol of his love, and of his promises. He had sworn many times over that Lovino was his favorite person in the world, and that he would never abandon him, and he was determined to keep those promises until the sun burnt out and all that was left was the earth and sea. And even then, he would still be trying his damnest. After all, by marrying him, Antonio was consciously swearing his life to Lovino. He had no reservations. He wanted to do this.

Lovino’s words from earlier continued to echo in his mind. Lovino did not think he deserved Antonio. This was insanity. It was as if Lovino were some gutter trash and Antonio were some golden prize. No, it was not like that at all. They were both magnificent, both gods among men, both drops of the sun. They didn’t just deserve each other; they _belonged_ together, as the stars belong to the night and the sea belongs to the shore. There was no one else Lovino deserved; with Antonio, he got more than what he, the vision of perfection, could ever possibly imagine. And Antonio would never, ever be able to shine his brightest if Lovino was not there by his side. They were not incomplete separately, and yet, when they were brought together, something new and beautiful and painfully _whole_ was created. Something special.

“Lovino,” Antonio ventured. His voice was scratchy. They had been silent for a very long time.

“Yes, Antonio?” Lovino squeezed his hand and over at him. The Roman sunset reflected in his beautiful big amber eyes, and they were on fire. His hair was blazing copper in the golden light. His face was perfect, and beautiful, and unlike any other face in the world, not even Feliciano’s. It was so much more wonderful than anyone else’s.

“I just wanted to say that, I don’t know when you’ll realize how incredible you are. I don’t know if you ever will, because, Lovino, that’s who you are. You are so bright, but you can’t see it. I don’t know if you see how wonderful you are, how beautiful, but _I_ do. _I_ see it. I see you, Lovino. And I want you to know, that I will keep telling you and trying to help you see it forever. I will never, ever stop telling you how special you are, Lovino, because for as long as you can’t see it, and even after you can, it will never, ever stop being true. And I’m going to remind you until the sun stops shining over my land for the last time, and even after that. Because you, Lovino, are special. I just want you to know that.”

Lovino nodded, tears flowing down his cheeks, and he flung himself into Antonio’s arms, a familiar motion engraved into their souls. There they stood, the sunset of Rome reflected like fire in the Fontana della Baracaccia, lost in each other’s arms. Warmth spread throughout Antonio, entering wherever Lovino’s skin touched him, and he was home.

There was no life without Lovino. There was no breath or hope or sunshine without Lovino, because _he_ was the sunshine, and Antonio was the sun, and there could never be one without the other, even on the cloudiest of days. Lovino was not the darkness that he fed inside of himself; he was the wind and the rain and the soon-awakened stars twinkling, fixed in a celestial tapestry of unimaginable beauty, because he _was_ that beauty, and by God, he was the most beautiful thing in creation. He was the most perfect ball of belligerent imperfection, and he was immaculately filthy. He was the ozone-scented air after a thunderstorm. He was everything he thought he wasn’t, and he was no one but himself. He was untouchable. He was beautiful. He was wonderful. He was perfect. He was who Antonio loved, had always loved, and always would love, because there is no expiration date on such simple things as that- and there never needed to be. He was the world, the moon, the air in Antonio’s lungs. He was never anything but Antonio’s first choice, never anything but the most desirable person in Antonio’s life, and he would never stop being so, not even when the seas ganged dry and the rocks melted with the sun. He would never realize just how special he was, and that only served to make him even more so. And, by God, he was so special.

And because of all of that and more, so, so much more, too much more to ever be able to conceive or articulate or imagine, Antonio could not help falling in love with Lovino every single day of his life. And there was nothing as special as that.

In fact, Antonio was certain; there was nothing in the world as special as Lovino.

    

_Take my hand_

_Take my whole life, too_

_For I can’t help falling in love with you_

_For I can’t help falling in love with you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from: Wichita Lineman by Glen Campbell
> 
> Well, that's it. Thank you for reading! May you all find something as special to you as Lovino is to Antonio. If you liked this fic, or found any errors that need to be fixed, please leave a comment! Thanks again!


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